What did I know of tenderness, till you?
What did I learn of desire? So smothered
was I, and yet, grieved heart still keened, sea-mewed
for absent mate - to date, undiscovered.
...
Shy soul did whisper: 'There is more than this,
this lovelessness, this emptiness, this cursed,
rot-necklaced, reeking stink of albatross,
this dearth of joie de vivre, of worth and worse.
...
Wind-burned and well-trodden on, suffering mind
shrivelled up; exiled to an arctic floe,
small wonder that I lost all hope – unkind
love was all I'd known – vicious mistletoe.
...
But love still draws strength though buried in snow;
beneath the avalanche, the snowdrop grows.
YOU ARE READING
Borealis Love
PoetryLove - what does that word mean, what does it comprise? Do we always recognise it when faced with it? Do we value it when we ought to do so? Do we squander it when it is too easily given? Do we ever understand until it has left us and we are left to...
