Love's Place

First love creates a place among us

A tiny cherished orb that we fill

With ticket stubs, bright kisses, and the smell

Of your perfume mixing with my after shave

On Sunday mornings.

Bit by bit we slip into this place,

Not noticing how our skins begin to blur

Against the background of white ginger blossom

Garlands around your neck, midnight whispers,

And Rachmaninoff.

By the time our children are born,

We are enveloped in their swaddling,

Enchanting ourselves with our daughters’ voices,

Anniversary dinners in Ravenna, and the fragrance

Of a fire not lit to warm ourselves.

The place has filled with us.