Far more intimate.

I see two lovers. In the park. Sitting on the ledge of a memorial to coal miners. Kissing. Embracing. Lost in each others arms. Young lovers. I wonder. No other place to go? Maybe unaware that they are being observed? Or don't they care? I feel guilty. Watching. Glancing now and then. Amused. That I'm a natural born observer. Not a voyeur. All I know is that I generally avoid public displays of affection. No more than a goodbye or greeting kiss at an airport. But I'm old. These are young lovers. More openly passionate than me. I can be passionate, too. In private. In my writing. But my passion has changed over the years. It's more tranquil. More serene. Which makes it far more intimate. --Jim Broede