Clandestine Biscuits.
Such a day
with the sun smearing
gilt over smudge-grey cloudburst
he first held my hand.
Such a feel
of glad surrender
weak with belief in fateful
attraction to each.
Such a time
when togetherness
heedlessly discounted sense
for satisfied need.
Such a thrill
to recall the laughs
and forget happy can dry
as guilt ferments tears.
Such a while
since lonely got fed
with clandestine biscuits yet
still has no regret.