dear Monique, bold was my conviction of a love that I just knew
and I did in that time and place but it disappears as the truth
when you stop letting love be a feeling and make it a belief
when you think that it's a strive and forget that time's a thief
now I know it must fall to pieces, not us let to take it apart
we have to lose some of it, we can't keep it complete from the start
we could've kept it as we felt it but we've changed what it meant
and we'll say that we knew it but know it different than it went
it was grand to know it to end and wonder where it could go
but now we've taken it with us, if it exists we cannot know
did we plow a field already grown or sow a new season's seed?
have we now clipped and caged love's wings that we discovered freed?
my Monique, was our love made in uncertainty of what sought?
was it in then seeking we'll eventually see it picketed not wrought?
if love's beauty's in could well be otherwise but turns out is not
then love's disfigurement must be our making if only it were not
memories & previous plans
- ▼ 2010 (10)
- ► 2009 (87)