Love in the Moonlight

Two statues
for years
on pedestals in a park.
on permanent parade.
110 in the shade
days go on
and on the same,
the seasons revolve
around the two of them.
like flowers around
the sun
no heliotrophic action
for all the stillness
of nature
to be undone.
How history passes
them by
corrosion grows
through their
eyes.
no need for faith
even if the
seas rise.
They stare
at one another
ever steady
in any weather
white and chalk
and green and gray
until one night
when lightning strikes
animated arms
and shields and books
wrestle free
amongst the trees
joints creak
and burst,
silent cement
speaks its first
across the years
one thing sears
memory; thirst.
To hold
to stroll,
don't know how long
we have freedom,
we may not
travel to foreign lands
but at least we can each
if just across
the park,
hold hands.

(In the morning, both statues have returned to their former positions, resting atop their pedestals. But for the faint scratches and brushed off moss, did they move at all? No one knows what happened that night in the park.)