What Love IsI do not know what love is: how could I? I only know that his smile warms the sun and I can’t help returning it; how we can talk the hours away, or sit together with creeping time our only enemy; that when he cradles my icy fingersWhat Love Is
I have no care for cold; how when he says every day he spends with me seems like the best of his life, I not only believe him, but understand— How could I know of love? I only know that somewhere along the way I’ve forfeited my right to laugh at stricken fools.
CandlelightThe kindest light of all is not so kind: all lies are cruel, and flattery fuels weakness.Candlelight
The brisk beams of day better know
night’s deep stillness,
and love genuine
will see clear faults,
unshaken.
Addendum to NightHow I wish the darkest hours were as innocent for me stillAddendum to Night
as they once were; What shame! to mar such wondering peace
with the slow decay of fear.
The Deep of the NightI love the lonely hours in the deep of the night. When darkness blankets the street;The Deep of the Night
All fades out of being but this— When stillness creeps through the house; All are asleep but I. The world is not fashioned anew— Rather, it is a moment between worlds. Light and sound are strange creatures floating in this void. All windows fall dark, showing only reflection— When the deep of night cloaks the world, There is nowhere to look but within. The witching hour is pale with revelers and revels; It takes a thicker darkness to fill the
--
Then you begin to make it better...
Previous PageNext Page