He looked at me, The way the sky looks at the rain, Waiting for patiently for the relief. Hands intertwining around my waist like vines, Every touch felt. Warm lips pressed against mine that has been worn. Heal them I say as if they have been broken so many times before. I love you, I love you.
Between the swaying boughs Of two lonesome firs Chirps a mother bird mocking the rising sun
“Why do you mock the coming day mother?” Her baby chicks chirp “Do we not need the light for warmth? To fly? To eat?”
“No my dearest, it is not the light I mock But more so the rise that acts as a clock Counting down the moments until you seek Warmth Flight And food For yourself, leaving me an empty nest Alone, between these two lonesome firs”
If I could sleep until tomorrow Then I’d be fine But I couldn't be bothered The way today is designed Too pish Too posh Too easy to slip Right back to dreamland is my only wish
that’s the curious thing about love; it cannot be defined. it cannot be measured or reasoned with. it knows no limit it transcends time and bridges space; to love or be loved or even have been loved is to exist somewhere, forever.