I am witnessing
The great mauve the sky is,
The same one, as she divested
Closures from all four winds,
Cutting her hair off,
Depriving her nape of
Tickles, my cold, cold fingers,
But what can I say,
That was the afternoon
Of afternoons.

Here’s to the kiss of blue
And fire, of this very life and the next
(whatever that means).
All the cooing never got to me,
The nth star did not. So frown,
Laugh at me, but here’s what I think,

Love is not walking, nor talking, not even falling.
Love is not stop, nor go, not even wait.
Love is not probable, nor improbable,
     It is certain.
Love is not right, nor wrong,
     It is true.
Love is all, not us, not me, not even her, but
     How I love her, all of her, with all of me
Having her, us, even if
     I just have us now.

This is all,
That I can love (and I will love, I did),
     And I chose loving her,
     Choosing to,
           Even now.*

© 2015 J.S.P.