Age Has Everything to Do With It
Permission to write this poem, to weave this story.
To hold the hand to touch the narrative.
Not all relationships are volatile. Not this one.
Age has everything to do with it.
They meet for the first time in a park and it’s raining.
She places a cross on the picnic bench, unsure
if it’s necessary. Not knowing she is protected
by organic food and lack of devilish intent.
If needed, there is an umbrella; but truth weathers
gray skies and intuition.
They break bread and sip jasmine tea. This is love,
or so she reckoned, not just another walk in the woods.
copyright Sherry Quan Lee; from Septuagenarian: love is what happens when I die