love and time are
intimately intangible-
both can be made,
and either can be taken,
and broken,
by the other.
love can lie
as dormant as vesuvius,
for ages uninterrupted,
a thing nobody thought about
for time out of mind.

and then, for one eternal moment
time explodes:
some will run from it,
and some will face it head on,
and some still
will never know what happened
until it is too late.

but certainly there were those two,
the last lovers of pompeii,
who may have dined together
for the first time
in the shadow of the mountain,
feeling as if they both
were about to erupt.
and later, as night pressed in,
while passion pushed its way
through a mantle of unfamiliarity,
the air must have been searing
around them,
even before they were to be left
embracing each other
for the first time,