Love's Open Season
There, .......in the meadow......
........exposed,
trembles my heart....
wide-open for all the
hunters of love to
view....
....frozen, in place....
muscles tense....
trying to avoid the self-
perceived dangers even
a slight flinch
may bring........
This place was once
a garden of rejuvination
and needed space ....
that healed all wounds,
now......an unsureness fills
the misty air, revealing
scattered pieces of what it
is this heart has been
running
from.....
words, like bullets, shot
forth from the trusted
emotion, called love.....
piercing, burning, betraying
my heart of the comfort
that lured me once before
to this meadow ......
A trophy, for an insecure
hunter with no passion of
his hunt?...not .this heart , it shall
return when the timing
feels right...and the clover
does not taste
quite so
bitter....
Copyright © Regina Branham | Year Posted 2006
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