We walk our dogs in parks and wooded trails. We often meet other couples and strike up conversations, but we keep our secrets.
Brittle sun casts weak shadows
through the groves of saplings.
Fat Hazel puffs and snuffles,
nose to the ground,
catching scents of deer who
forage tender growths at dawn.
Meandering on to the swamp
to drink weed laden water.
Lionel obediently trails behind her
leash in hand, head down.
Henry drags me along at a trot,
darting in and out behind trees,
rushing, then stopping abruptly,
sniffing, looking for squirrels.
He races after them but,
I hold tightly to his leash.
People pass us and smile,
thinking “what a nice long,
married couple,
walking their old dogs.
We nod and smile in return,
sometimes striking up a conversation.
Sharing our secret together,
for we are new lovers.
Our bodies cleave lovingly,
each to the other.
A roguish sparkle shines
from his brown eyes.
My cheeks blush crimson,
in reply.
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