We keep it casual, close,
a secret, so we toast
our sweet success so far,
as if watching from a silvery star
as our brisk bodies gravitate towards
& orbit each other;
neither one the centre,
just equal in our attraction.
Occasionally objects fall from orbit
& enter Earth’s arduous atmosphere,
burning up in blistering intoxication
or reaching the surface;
rarely hurting anyone or
attracting much notice.
One of these will be us;
the ending to our old story
written across a timeless sky
obscured by cream clouds drifting by.
Would you choose to burn up
or land softly & then be on your way?