It's not the first time

    we've bitten into a peach.

    But now at the same time

    it splits——half for each.

    Our "then" is inside its "now，"

    its halved pit unfleshed——

    what was refreshed.

    Two happinesses unfold

    from one joy， folioed.

    In a hotel room

    our moment lies

    with its ode inside，

    a red tinge，

    with a hinge.