An epic poem is where something happens,
where there is plot, characters and action.
This is not it.
Here there’s just the two of us and we are still
and nothing ever changes.
We simply sit and share a warm embrace,
a fleeting kiss perhaps,
but certainly no more.
An epic poem tells a story,
it is a narrative, perhaps of passion.
This can’t be it.
It’s just a simple tune
softly hummed by two consonant hearts.
It peaks, then spirals down,
then leaps back up like a mountain goat.
That’s all there is to it.
It surely isn’t much.
It’s just our life and song and breath.