Friday, 15 August 2014

Sometimes Love Doesn't (Quite) Make It


Gay or straight, man or woman, I dare say there are a good few people out there whose hearts have been stirred if not broken by a romantic interlude on holiday…or just about any time, anywhere.

Oh, but romance can be so fickle. Love, now that’s something else, and where there’s life…

SOMETIMES LOVE DOESN’T (QUITE) MAKE IT

I’ve strolled in green hills
felt summer’s fingers in my hair,
raindrops like kisses,
envying leafy songbirds
free to fly where they choose
as nature intended,
lying on a bed of heather
its scent invading all my senses
just as you (still) do

We’d stroll in green hills
where you’d run fingers in my hair,
(pausing for kisses)
and write love songs
for the birds, fly where we chose
as nature intended,
lying on a bed of heather
its scent invading all our senses,
all but conquering us

I’ve walked grubby streets
felt summer’s fingers tease my hair,
raindrops like tears,
envying couples holding hands
their sweeter life choices
(or nature at play?)
wishing them kinder places
than sure to invade all the senses,
keep the spoils

Once, we were songbirds flying high
till a north wind exposed us for a lie


Copyright R. N. Taber 2010


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