When love comes to call, it sends no couriers.
It oft arrives without preamble, forewarning or thought.
It becomes incarnate in its hosts for time without measure.
Its duration, the eternity stored between the rollicking beats of two
Loving hearts.
When love lays its claim,
It rushes to secure its newly gained ground –
Its geography and landscape ripe with new promise.
It basks in the rich pleasure of each stolen moment
Converting the vanquished to victor anew.
When love loses luster
Habit and pattern oft times linger as glue.
The dizzying pulse of new love untethered
As events, sometimes capricious, pry lovers
Apart. Love’s glossy coat may be worn and tattered
But steady the metronome of two beating hearts.
When love, resurrected, endures decades
Embattled, its old magic echoes in harmonic
Refrain.
The half-lift of a brow, the brush of a palm, a ghost
The half-lift of a brow, the brush of a palm, a ghost
Of a smile, a language its own.
When love comes to call, it lingers a lifetime until,
At last, its labored breath exhales as one.
d.evans April 8, 2011
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