The Lover

It was like being caught in the stillness,

Of a great sprawling pine forest,

Carpeted with an infinite number of needles, orange and splendid,

That first time that I saw her…

Was she appearing or disappearing I failed to ask,

Shimmering between the odd oak or gum tree,

Like wild lilies in a spinning world,

Seen through the eyes of a child, dancing in the wind, daring the skies…

It is innocence that invites hope to come out and play,

Like those little fairies with their tiny feet,

Somewhere in the moss, a beautiful thing thriving in the dark and wet,

I didn’t expect any regrets…

It was impossibly too early to be contemplating complications,

Thick like brambles that dangle their berries,

On twisted branches littered with thorns that beg the question,

Was I indeed thinking when I reached for that flower?

I guess not, but neither do those five horse when they frolick in the sun,

Or those curious birds with their instruments serenading the shadows,

As if it was the most natural thing to do,

I was simply drawn to you…


I waited like an empty bench in a botanical garden,

Waited as if I expected the showers to pass,

Weighted by half-answers from an unrelenting past,

I felt like waterfalls weeping from the streams that feed them,

But I believed in us…

Believed enough to spend rainy days building fires,

Scars and burns upon my fingers,

Counting the cold misty nights,

Waiting until caterpillars turn to butterflies,

Only to see moths dead by the candle light…


I loom,

Large like a mountain with a ridge like a Hog’s back,

The winds blow loud enough to reprise the voices,

They bring more clouds…

On the muddy path I thought was less travelled,

The forever-foraging black ants secret away pieces of my heart…


2 responses to “The Lover

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