OLD LOVERS

In the night
he would turn to her
and put his hands in the old places
and leave them there
and there was no stirring in either of them--
a flickering warmth perhaps--like memory--
and a vague sense of wonder
that after all this time
these hands could still find these places.
And after a while
She'd reach out and touch him
and they would lie like that,
not moving, not speaking,
till sleep came.

By Albert Huffstickler

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