![\"verse](\"https:\/\/riverwriter.ca\/wordcurrents\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/01\/versesq-150x150.png\")
<\/a><\/p>\n<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Oh, I could spin you a yarn that would enchant you
\nwith pungent love potions concocted in golden ewers,
\nconveyed on the heaving backs of magical flying steeds
\nto eager lissome lovers led to each other by knowing stars.<\/p>\n
But the truth is even more magical, more wonderful.<\/p>\n
The story is set in a city on streets and in buildings:<\/p>\n
as unerringly as ancient stone crafters fit each stone
\nin Machu Picchu or the Great Pyramids or Stonehenge,
\nso the letters, choices, drinking laws, decisions
\nof many people in several cities made it inevitable
\nthat you and I should say hello and all else fall away.
\nWeather didn’t matter\u2014 we, impoverished students,
\nwould walk as close, rain or snow, arm in arm, as we could.
\nUntil here we are, fifty-three and a half years later,
\narm in arm participants in our story, that story.<\/p>\n
And the weather still doesn’t matter.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" A valentine for my Valentine –#1089 Continue reading <\/a><\/p>\n