I Love You

Listen to the graves of old men And let them whisper in your ear Seeds of blasting time Like the loved ones spoken in grimaces The many golden souls who don’t believe in souls But the shoals of our seasons Like mad children We all play different games and demand attention Demand our rules Our needs for happiness To make you happy so I’m happy so you’re happy so I’m happy So love’s carousel keeps turning As if it ever stopped As if it ever stopped As if it ever ever ever over the breadth of the universe Faltered…

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Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Date: 9/21/2009 1:23:00 AM

Wow! Matt, thanks for sharing this poem about love. And, as the old cliche says... it does make the world go 'round. Even if we think there is no soul. I love the first three lines a LOT!!! Seeds of blasting time makes me think about knowledge that old folks pass along to young folks that are willing to slow down enough to listen.