out of time dancing at the family function

Love shows up in habit and motion,
in a laugh that cuts a clean path through a crowded room,
in a smile like a childhood teddy- threadbare, soft,
all worn lines and lived-in warmth.

So familiar it feels familial,
as if it has known me all along.

There is something tender in a love that allows regression,
that permits being small again.

Days wear long, but end
with cricket feet in a cold bed.
Some nights are only tired murmurs;
others unravel into seamless chatter.

As instinctive as brushing teeth, we kiss-
and still, it returns me
to the first admission of feeling:
two nervous strangers
sharing a rock on Silver Strand.