The Date

It begins with travelling,
As is the case with all things,
Toiling through the endless masses,
A silent discussion, spoken though a look.

Next to wander,
About around,
Never certain, aimless, lost,
But together, happy, carefree.

At last a rest,
Our journey wearied feet
Tired, still, our seats comfortable.
In our element now,
No sense of former awkwardness remains,

Time, ignored, passes. Voice takes over
Our vocabularies, great from years of learning,
Weave a wonderful world of words,
Surrounding us and embracing us in a web
Of love and language.

Onward home. Times power returns in full.
She to oppressive regime returns,
I to mine own, to ponder what has passed.
A glance forward clears, and begins to see the back.