Training Wheels

Warm red velvet, the cooling asphalt,
the sun recedes, her eyes sparkling with mysterious and stateful agenda.
The whitened walls, beams aimed askew,
Noise we don't hear deflecting a conversation we share, silently.

Whispers on cool white sheets, soft and crisp
flattened against figures, still and moving,
sudden, deliberate, a choreographed dance
that will always and never be completed.

Leaving the driveway, without witness,
the silence and calm, a newfound confidence
and the first and last that will ever be.

It comes back to you, that day, that dusk,
the memories of ages gone by, whisked at once
to the present day, to the present night,
to cool, crisp sheets that beckon and ache
arch beneath us as we learn the freedom
and learn each other.

They come off, to never return,
and the concurrent wisdom and fear
wondering if they'll need return
and at once, knowing they'll not
be needed again.