Type Dancing

ATTEMPTED POETRY
By David Allen

1 a.m.
You say our love
has stopped growing
it’s slowing,
unknowing
at first, but now
you can feel it still

I say our love
is still reaching,
still teaching,
still preaching,
it’s that unquenched,
undying, unkilled

2 a.m.
Early in the morning
upstairs you sleep
and dream the dreams
you rarely remember.

Downstairs I write
right through the night
and ponder our love’s
December.

3 a.m.
Asleep, I dream
that I’m asleep
in your arms,
a sleep that’s deep,
and as I dream
I smile, asleep
and loved, I dream
I’m safe asleep.

4 .m.
I sit here writing,
wondering what’s to be.
Why can’t we save this marriage
if I love you and you love me?

                                                 Fort Wayne, 1988

 (Note, In January we will have been married 27 years.)