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They say love is blindness:
So I guess it must be
That love rises every morning,
Bringing warmth to the worlds it touches,
Dazzling eyes accustomed to darkness,
Turning foggy dawn into summer morning;
Then it ripens into an endless afternoon,
Quietly passing the hours that remain.
And if it ends, and darkness returns,
Whether beneath sudden thunderclouds or
After a calm twilight, those caught
In the night again begin to curse it
As if dark words could light a candle.
(There used to be a comments form here. However, having seen what I get when I make it easy to comment, that form has been indefinitely suspended. I can still be reached by email at <loonxtall@hotmail.com>. I apologize for any inconvenience.)
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Lakeside Park is maintained by C. Daelhousen <loonxtall@hotmail.com>