Love is a word, an image,
sweetness and solitude,
sticky sweet cotton candy
that never quite begins until it ends
Lingers on the tongue
writes slow shivers across
memories whose nerves
have never quite unwound.
But maybe it is that broken glass,
stuck in my feet
while mopping your floor
A light hearted remark
implying that faith forever
gone, was once full.
Other days, I drink to life
But on days like this,
I drink to love and say
Love is a fidgeting child
who on leisurely afternoons,
elopes with you beyond the hills
Other days he sulks in a corner
And I sit with him
I caress his stories
And say love is time
Lost, found and simply known
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