It is time's most practiced trick to turn what seems like yesterday
into decades of marriage, but here we are in our dog-earred page of heaven watching the sun slip from its barky hook behind our neighbor's pecan tree. This is a quiet time with few spoken words because most of our communication has become telepathic through practice and the unfolded knowledge of each other. When we do speak, it's to break the silence with the most important of all words, followed by a kiss, that for some grateful reason, is longer than usual tonight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem