Thursday, February 14, 2013

Ineptness of Ink



To spell the ways of love evades my pen
Disrober of the heart and soul and mind
And I would blush but love is gentle, kind
Forgiving foibles common unto men
And yet to spell its ways evades my pen

Softly you come to me and I love you
As you remove the ramparts to my soul
Geography of skin is not the whole
But oh, beneath your kiss its touch will do
Softly you come to me and I love you

The ways of love are life’s great mystery
We cannot suffer its caress alone
For love cannot exist in only one
Divine extolling of insanity
The ways of love are life’s great mystery

To tell the ways of love evades my quill
How does one spell the lining of a heart?
Or shape in word our utter-deepest part
Shattering eons when the night is still
To tell love’s ways evades my humble quill


© Janet Martin

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thank you always for your visit and your thoughts.