That dances through beautiful things like blooming flowersAnd if this love was ever only ours
It is so much bigger now
Indefinable and immeasurable
But concrete too
It is the coo of child
The scene on a mild summer evening
When the sun sets just right
And omits the perfect amount of light
In death, love is always, always right
Ever-lasting and ever-blowing
Love is all-knowing
It survives after reason
Season upon season
Till our bones are dust and swept in the breeze, and
I think that breeze is love
2 comments:
Beautiful. Which isn't surprising, at all.
you are my breeze :) I can feel you all the way from D.C...amazing poem!
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