The paddle hangs from
A single nail on the wall

A bodyless doll on the night stand
Amongst extensive lists
Date night recommendations

In the future they will laugh at us
Or perhaps just wonder

The gift that strangers give
Will no longer be a mystery

The secret knowledge
Like a backstage door
Will be where all of us
Enter the arena

Those fleeting thoughts
Will simply be,
Never having to be escaped to

We’ll let our potter’s wheel spin
And passionately speak of glass

And raise each other’s children
Nothing like our own