Saturday, February 8, 2014

Love Poem





Love doesn’t just happen
Nor is it reserved for those
Perfect moon-light nights and virgins dressed in white

It does not use and then dispose of
As if flesh and blood were nothing more
Than a paper tissue with a pulse

I have wept its fullest beauty
Crawled its grandest miles
Laughed its sun-sparkles…in the rain

...Only to find its compensation
Is never finished
And always only begun

© Janet Martin

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thank you always for your visit and your thoughts.