20,000 days from now
My arthritic fingers
Curl into claws
But if I hold them together
And point my aching thumbs
They look like the heart
Still beating for you.

20,000 days from now
My seized neck
Angles my head toward the ground
But if I stay close
And turn my rheumy eyes
I see the point of your cheekbone
That I love to kiss

20,000 days from now
My thoughts are sand dunes
Drifting and squeaking
But when I walk where the sun
Strikes the brightest quartzite grains
I am back
At our first I love you

Bryson Thomas