Lovers are like children lost in the garden
Caught in trust and fear and something else
Discovery two by two, mounting into blue
Negotiating a secret fringe of desire
And how the fountains bubble bright and clear


And the world goes on, careless of her
Labelled afflictions, it’s life just so you know
Bright black and blue, exploration made difficult
By the mind’s apprehension, and caution
That strangles us to the bones, this monotony
Of Evolution’s tick-tack-toes against the


Rising wind of our youth’s carelessness
Lovers you are so pragmatic, hardly even platonic
Chasing every last and wayward power
Because you don’t know what you want


Getting older against an independence raw
Guilty of regrets you do not talk about
Love, it’s getting old that you were once wronged
Love is a holiday from the past, and if you can’t
Do it, this sunlit juice well, it won’t last.

Photography Courtesy:

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