I can offer you sympathy,
try to feel you through empathy.
But if you take it for granted,
silence will be your remedy.
Remember the seeds you planted,
when unnourished will bloom slanted.
Hearts yearn for balanced devotion,
like birds sharing what they chanted.
When there is too much commotion,
tears seem to fall in slow motion.
Will you give my soul an embrace,
try to sense its deep emotion?
Ego only portrays disgrace.
Some actions are hard to replace.
Judgement is harshly negative.
Selflessness should be your showcase.
When the conscience seems tentative,
your heartbeats become expletive.
But if you've helped quench someone's thirst,
the thoughtful become sensitive.
Before the heart and soul immerse,
the eyes observe compassion first.
Awareness brings sweet harmony.
A purpose that should be well versed.
Love, measured by decades,
casts its shadow
on the imposter,
couched in glamour,
sliding toward a precipice.
Love, matured by trials,
uses its strength
to stand above pretense,
wandering in the dark,
unnourished before its glorified mirror.
Love, marked by sensitivity,
hears what isn't said
during thunderstorms of stress,
listening for dripping of pain to mend,
while the mimic chatters about itself.
Hope is our mother.
That nurturing warm woman.
She is a flow of living waters over a dessert land.
Refreshing your soul, outpouring life.
Intoxicating your reality, birthing you into the promise land.
We are unnourished children thirsty for milk,
desperate for just a drop.
With the leaders carrying our nutriments in trunks and trucks,
We trust that the scolding from our mother has
beaten out all the greed that lingers,
the virus that spreads and sucks all made promises,
we believe you will serve us well from the menu.
We choose and hope in you.
With a flick of her humour and a heartfelt warmth,
She pulls him right back to square one,
Before all the women came under his hands.
Before, on beds, careless coats were flung
Before heartbreak kissed another goodbye,
And weary beliefs on love took hold.
Before time wounded heels that deserved nothing less
And jaded love was bought and sold
There is her....giddy delights and sweet disposition.
Heart of wisdom and loyal friend.
Dirty letters sent with orgasmic intention.
Heart of truth, no need to pretend.
Why has this girl been found so unopened?
She offers love pure, with no compromise
Why are her gifts left hidden..unnourished
And, at his age.....why does he have..... Butterflies?
It's just love.
© 2013
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