The match sparks, lighting the next Act, we hush -

my fingers tense around his -no longer

pushing him away. No more lines rehearsed

or spoken,tracing letters on his back;

we chastise eachother -going over

the same lines, again and again and gain...

the next scene - he places the puzzle ring

on my finger,disentangling me

from repentant past, still scripted present;

and I place mine on his - not letting go.

As the music plays our sound track cues, we

play grown-ups; reinventing ourselves to

fit. Conform. Our playschool house, loving spouse:

always redrafting our rhyming couplet.