NEVER TOO LATE TO FALL MADLY IN LOVE
I gather kindling for a fire
that slowly grows higher.
I find more stray branches
of firewood in Central Park.
I mastermind a nostalgic party
for 80-year old widowers
who meet for the first time.
We all toast marshmallows
and sing summer camp songs.
They were both arts and craft
counselors at summer camps.
The meeting of ageless bodies looked
like a wild stallion and a mare in heat.
They both embrace with the immediacy
of a love they never knew they knew.