May 18, 2008
Love’s Sham
Love, what is this word?
As overused as a tired cherished sweater.
Lost in a madding crowd like
The whisper in a bloody heaving arena.
Tired, commercialised, slack!
As hollow as the old fallen Oak
Surrounded by a forest of ignorant Spruce Pine,
As far as the eye can stretch.
Bereft,
A cold breeze amongst empty trees, merely a rustle and gone.
How can a word so worn and smashed do justice to the depth of feeling
For you, my soul mate – so entwined into my psyche?