Love it is for unlucky folk
Who dream of living with hearts unbroken
Love is for the lucky few
Who cannot stay down for long!
Once I too was young and true
Innocent like a very short song
And then I fell and yet loved again
We are all unlucky and lucky
We are all once young
And then old and comforted
And uncomforted by the memories
Of love and what wasn’t quite love
Yet I lie light upon my lap
And breathe a sigh for my worn heart
That the heart keeps loving
As the lungs keep breathing
That is all, the ends are all
Inhaling love and exhaling breath
Love is for those blessed years
When time raced in breezy afternoons!
Tag Archives: luck
Not With Your Foreign Wings to Shelter Me
Beneath sentiments better left, unsaid
Untouched like some dead weight
Beneath the rubble-fields of battered words
That amount to little more, mere memories
They are not tangible, precious, or alive
But constrict me from the inside
Let them try to pronounce a winter of hurt
For a floundering of spring, yet to be
With fevered heart, let them melt away in summer
Clang shut eternal gates of love, forever?
Yet, for all that, trust shall come again, as ever?
With nostrils of bleeding gold, for rich rewards?
You will not appear again, with that dusty mantle
Of golden olive skin and pouty eyes
I am sick of dissipating you in mere fantasy
As blind as I ever am, a prelude and a requiem, or a preface
Where my luckless touches, touched a foreign woman’s shore.
Wuji Seshat 