Fresh flowers encase our secret hideout.
Heady sweet scents enshroud us.
We sit together on a worn oaken bench,
Hands clasped, like lovers, like friends.

Your dark eyes, bright with joy,
Skin soft like tiger lilies, exotically tan.

“All these years.” -All these years.
“You never told.” -I never told.

I lean forward, eyes shut like fresh buds sprinkled with dew
Cheek to cheek, warm and soft as rose petals.

“Yours to keep,” murmured into my hair. -Yes, yours forever.

Your widow weeps on the edge of our garden,
As we move beyond her reach. Together at last.
Kept secret. Kept pure.


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