they were in the corner
of the library again this morning.
not here to look for books,
but just a quiet place to look,
deeply into to one another
with eyes smoked
and fingers blind
feeling, touching, questing,
reading familar nooks.
not caring of watchers,
seeking only each other
with silent need bordering
desperation.
they read each others bodies
history, philosophy, tradgedy both greek and modern.
they braile like ******, word,
verse, and chapter whole.
eyes feasting the depth of
others soul.
one final look, one lingering embrace  and they part
with shakespearean sorrow
they close the lovers book,
bereft,
until tommorrow.