On a Bench Overlooking Deep Creek

She held his head in her lap
like a bowl that 
shouldn’t be spilled,
and I wondered
how long they'd been there and
how long they could continue.
The pair weren’t
going anywhere.
I mean, who would
under such circumstances?

She looked down into
closed eyes,
mouth wording soundlessly
(soundlessly to me),
but he heard and smiled,
knees pulled up, pointed to
the covering canopy.
He was easy in
the childishness of it,
a pillow of thighs
under his head,
dappled by the light
of the dipping sun.
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