Nothing else here, pressed soles at tufts not mown
After colourless chat flew from surprise.
Rippling clouds seen through slowing lids and lashes,
Hands done with familiar things, bitten nails,
Varnish chipped, drawing new ways.
To deep shadows and over all drawbacks,
Low, no view from anywhere as minutes pass.
Out of reach, silent lips and nothing formed for
All that rushes when wordless it must stay.
Minds recovering them now, up suddenly,
Hurrying into plans to put the day away to evening.
Gather this to them later in the dark, how it was in morning breezes,
The practised, friendly bond for always.
And all that afternoon skirting what drew them in without alarms,
Catching two undisturbed, like strangers hounding feelings.
