We spoke, for the first time.
Words perhaps caged behind anxious lips
could only temper passion's tempo.
We spoke, but not with words.
An april breeze splashed luck into our eyes
and at the same time we'd blink
and my gaze met yours, and yours mine,
and we didnt say goodbye--at least,
not for a long time.
Time is up for interpretation
when two eyes are locked
in perpetual infatuation
with the others'
colors.
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