I will give you
whatever of forever is given me.

If we were five
our initials would have been
carved in the trunk of the school
courtyard tree.
same penknife to core our apple
walking home, at half-past three

At twenty-five
might our initials have been
merged in mortgages and wedding rings?
and smaller versions of ourselves
hazily conceived

At forty-five
we have made our initials our own.
dusty from celibacy, but –
enlace me,
into late stories of love-making

and I will give you
whatever of forever is given me.

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