STYLE

Can one have a style of love
Swung open like a gate, inviting
Or perhaps a door slammed shut
Trapping all within its space
Feelings are the sculptor
An image forming, chisel in hand
Or even a seasoned potter
Hands around spinning wet clay
Yet love can turn inside out
Once a soft smile, now hard stare
Passion spent, mixed emotions
Still trying to make sense of it all
Trust love to be like vapour
Swirling around without form or shape
But always nearby, ready to hug
Taking over once again, ready or not
And it alone determines its span
Whether minutes or decades
A secret never understood
But a style that can be