what is love, I questioned myself
if she was a flower in a garden
I would  write poems,
describe her in the most elegant ways
I would love her more than myself

I would manifest
about her eyes, voice-everything
I would draw,
and add colours to make her stand out
I would tell about her
to this world- filled with misery

I would  try to recreate her
so I’ll never be left alone

we don’t pluck it out
just to spend a day or two with it
instead we let it thrive
that is love
And to love is to leave

In the end
we die alone

In the end
no blade to hone

In the end
do Angel’s call

In the end
when rhythm stalls

In the end
which deck unstacks

In the end
our health attacked

In the end
we pray for more

In the end
but fate endures

In the end
one final change

In the end
whose face remains

In the end
the bonds break free

In the end
— one last decree

(Radnor Pennsylvania: May, 2025)

Mind forgets
Eyes slip past notes
Paper retains, but is lost
Only fingers remember
A lone melody.
And maybe that’s enough