The patio bench on which you once posed

erotically to indulge my artistic inclinations––

or was it the other way about––

is gone, spent, eroded like lust

by common familiarity and the

lapsing of too much time.

Replaced with something new

we say more stable, durable, permanent even,

on which we sit in the shade considering

the remains of one day

and the prospects for another

and wonder what passions will drive

us through it now.

 © Philip Knight 2018