The time-dancer sang back and forth through the centuries
calling for his soul-mate, wondering - “surely she must be somewhere,
of all the many millions who live and live again”.
And then, in the crammed poetry section at the back of an old second-hand bookshop
he saw her - absorbed, turning the pages, lips moving silently, reading.
He browsed elsewhere for what seemed like ages; then cleared his throat -
“Errr … excuse me interrupting … may I …?”
“Oh … oh yes of course, I’ve been hogging the space, haven’t I …?”.
Stepping aside smiling, she beckoned him, “Please …”.
He picked a poetry book at random and glanced at reading.
She, long-time apprenticed to the muse’s match-maker
well versed in what to do, looked up increasingly from her intensity.
They edged closer, ’til somehow they touched.
“What took you so long …?” she enquired, whispering, eyes sparkling.
“It took time …” he replied “to learn my half … of our unique mating song”.
That night, as they lay naked on a bed of softening silken words …
confiding…, wrapping around each other's etymologies …
a nearby galaxy spun a joyful dance, barely in control.