Love you, later," the words hang,
A whispered promise, a gentle slang.
Not goodbye, but a pause, a breath,
A temporary veil against death,
Of shared moments, of laughter bright,
Of eyes that meet in fading light.
"Love you, later," the phrase takes hold,
A story waiting to be told.
Though miles may stretch, and days may fade,
This love, a garden, unafraid,
Will bloom again, when paths a...