Friday, August 11, 2017

ON AND ON AND ON

Passion is loud
and sloppy and sudden,
is something

that just happens—
like
the mumps.

But, at it's quietest, love
comes across
much more like

fidelity—
not at all
glamorous,

simple and slender
as a promise
when it's whispered,

something you
don't touch, but catch
glimpses of,

too steadfast
and unremarkable
to be a miracle—

like July fireflies
in those considerable moments
between flashes

or dusty dented boxes
a little too full of
Christmas ornaments,

like beautiful wind chimes
hung up
in the window of a closed shop,

or exotic garden flowers
at night
when no one's there looking.

1 comment:

HOW DO YOU FEEL?