Tributaries
It flows around
without much sound
to fill us whole
in rich glory,
our soft story:
I shall extol.
We split apart
right at the start,
I ignore why.
My trap gets set
when I forget
your glowing eye.
Lilting words danced
when we both chanced
to allow hopes
within our plot
tied in a knot
perched on tipped slopes.
Distant goodbyes
always disguise
the tears and fears
that must arise
at love’s demise
woe reappears.
Copyright © John Weber | Year Posted 2009
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