1
My father, how he lifted
his glass at our wedding,
and with shaking hand
welcomed love into my life.
2
Getting out of bed,
you run the bath water
and I sleep a moment longer,
dreaming of a Greek island
and flowers in a deep cavern.
Very slowly I climb down
for a closer look.
3
Driving the December road to Madison
in winter sunlight,
Bill Evans on the radio. Maybe
this is actually paradise,
you said, and on we went
from there.
4
The pine tree out my window
tells me I don’t have to be afraid
for my own death, not even,
Love, for yours.
[Jim Moore {1943-}, 'The Four Stages of Love', from Invisible Strings]
No comments:
Post a Comment