There’s another level of love.

Beyond the age when you believed everything was possible,

even the impossible.

Beyond the celebrations and holiday parties, or those junk

understandings and displays that pretend to be something

hiding behind a cheap tan.

That knows how to sing the blues in the depths,

considering everything that might happen.

We fell in love over and over again despite the falls—

and we always fell.

And never forgot who has a real soft spot for protecting you

at every turn.

Love is the door between worlds that we enter beyond dreaming.

Where we become the happiness.

We become the dreaming.

We become the poems.

Like the time we first met.

Stephen Cipot

Garden City Park