Tuesday, November 29, 2005

A poem I wrote, lost, and found again...

The changing face of love
is as inconsistent and dependable as the
changing seasons

As damaged as imperfections wear
With beauty prepared by idle hands

In a sinless act of courage
a bearing of a soul
two naked individuals
-too stunted to persuade growth-
learned that letting go
is the secret to holding on

Not by grasp or grip or feats of strength
or by the measure of a heart

But the gift to recognize
-to know when-
Love is not enough.



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