(To a three-year-old wonder who is tossed between what love is what is not)
Will I begin with drizzles of kisses and couplings?
Of prince charmings and bits of glass shoe sequences?
Should love be all glitz to your eyes or sweet pastel looks,
Or whisperings of the mush when the sky's blue?
Shall I not tell you of Scarlett and Rhett who darted wars and guns
And yet moved the hand of time,
While their chests minced Romeo and Juliet's rhyme?
Or that of death's woes of Jack and Rose?
But how can I make plain the craggy mountain that stood strong
Embracing his sky despite the jealous sun's glare?
Or the tear in a mother's cheeks upon seeing
The tiny finger that wraps hers for the first time?
No comments:
Post a Comment