There is a path of stones
on the edge of the garden  —
the sunlight striking in slats
  between the trees.
I kissed you there
and thought that moment
would be unlike any other  —
the neighbor's beagle,
in the middle of the day,
began to howl.
It was a strange happenstance,
	a hybrid stained glass.
The elements of love, our love,
	seemed washed out
pale
    forgotten.