Notes About The Poem
There are those who think love is reserved for the young; others believing love transcends youth; while the fortunate few know there is no beginning or end to love. Being in a state of love just is. It only needs to be allowed.
Love's Ghost Town Remembers
Love’s Ghost Town Remembers
Isolated yesterdays
Feeding off arid dust,
While ancient choruses of tumbleweed
Keep passion’s past perpetually moving.
Wind blown footprints weave gracefully through
Structures of emotion’s main street,
Where milestones once fresh of adorned colors
Appear mirage-like,
Even as its essence remains alive.
Questioned of age,
Experience remains confident of purpose,
Defying rejection,
Lifting its rolling history
Above and over obstacles,
Willing to chance its foreverness at any cost.
Such are one’s dreams tempting wakefulness,
Cautiously holding steady
Behind shuttered windows of slumber,
Awaiting the sun’s rise each morning,
Eyes opening with anticipation,
Lifting one, then two eyelids of daring,
Inviting rays of light to sift through yesterday’s shadowed confinement,
Encouraging a rigid mind to embrace smiles once again,
Invite love’s enigma,
Permit it to fortify
The chance of rediscovery.
For…
Even as another day rushes forward to fade,
One’s ghost town of love
Wants only to raise yesterday’s shadows toward the light,
Desiring to be haloed in the dust,
To coalesce with love’s sunset
And make ready the gamble…
Once again.
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