Come and take a seat,
In the place,
Well prepared,
By the window,
Near the tree,
This is here,
For you,
and your spouse to be,
To see each other,
While I look beneath,
The tiny fissures,
Between the smiles,
Where you’d rather,
Not be bothered,
About things,
Not printed, placed,
Or even sold,
Instead,
We shall speak of love,
And emotions old,
And confront,
Questions lingering,
round the northwest corner,
Of your soul,
Why are we here?
Why do we love?
In these moments,
Fleeting and mere,
Ask them now,
For the demands of life,
Stalk us in ways,
We know not how.

–Richard Bryant