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 halved¹ 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 tinge²，

    with a hinge.