Walking Home In the Early Days

First you

then me

then both of us

humming a song

left over from the late show

feet deep in the piled-up

leaves of good-time autumns

trees dripping their sweet rain

all around us

your hand

mine

lips sweet

as the sweet-falling rain

each of us singing

the old song one more time

then storing it away

to be taken out and listened to

in all our hard-time years.