Love is true, no problem here,
no agitation, stress,
no words that tip the applecart
and leave us in distress.
Unless we're careful they will come
to set the cat among the pigeons,
dump our lives to disarray
and counteract our fond expressions.
In a flash we use expressions,
robbing Peter to pay Paul,
no regard for truthfulness
as pride precedes the fall.
Words in haste, and acts of malice
kill our equanimity,
murder love, destroy the beauty
we have crafted tenderly.
All at once we're lost and lonely
grasping straws out on a ledge,
either way our lives could tumble,
'til we pull back from the edge,
and fulfill our fondest wishes,
indiscretions pass us by,
close to danger, indecision,
glad to smile and not to cry.
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe