Wednesday, December 31, 2008

The Question of Love

How to write of flowers
opening in winter, gray and cold;
the world on verge of war;
you: unfolding with touch of lip
and hand - delicate, yet firm -
tiny, first buds of spring, rising to push
back snow; then the rose, lustrous in full bloom,
opening, receiving, responding!

Ours: this journey to be here; embraced
against this winter - this war that rages round
and would be in us, were it not for love
we shelter here, beating heart to heart,
lips brushing, exchanging breath for breath.

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