Love perches upon the narrowest
branch of the tallest willow,
whispering an alluring dream.
Swaying away from longing arms
in a dance intended to sear forever,
visions within a teased mind.
Reality strikes ruthlessly
I stand here on impotent earth,
as the dream hides -- rooted in hard dirt.
But with reality comes a strange peace of mind.
No longer fearing love’s mocking truth,
I am freed to embrace its callous cynicism.
Making truth whatever I will it to be.
© S.Loeding
All Rights Reserved
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 6:41 PM UTC
Love perches upon the narrowest
branch of the tallest willow,
whispering an alluring dream.
Swaying away from longing arms
in a dance intended to sear forever,
visions within a teased mind.
Reality strikes ruthlessly
I stand here on impotent earth,
as the dream hides -- rooted in hard dirt.
But with reality comes a strange peace of mind.
No longer fearing love’s mocking truth,
I am freed to embrace its callous cynicism.
Making truth whatever I will it to be.
© S.Loeding
All Rights Reserved
Strange, that of all my posted writing this is the poem that trends. Strange because most of my writing takes social commentary as its basis. Love poetry is such a worn topic, I generally stay away from it since it is so difficult to find a unique or new perspective. This piece was whipped out literally as a first draft in 5 minutes at a time of extreme anguish, and when I was ****** way beyond even my normal limits. I have always viewed it as one of my more mundane pieces. But thanks for the interest.
