Love makes the finest dust

Think of our words
           as tiny particles of air
moving through the air
           our conversations
a light dusting of love
           all fears all doubts
all hopes all dreams
           expelled from the lungs
so that mine settle on you
           and yours settle on me
the day consumed
           by our banter
and our intermittent
           intimate silences as we allow
our bodies simply to be
           together

Sitting across from you
           one sunny Sunday morning
at La Coupole in Montparnasse
           life never tasted so good
as we sipped at our drinks
           and watched the world go by

John Lyons