time and again, you
turn toward me and
seemingly out of nowhere, blurt,
"what is this?"
i, dumbly, don't have an answer.
(perhaps words simply don't
have the flare i'm looking for...)

this, my dear one, is love.
this, this is what the story books could
never tell us:
twists and turns, thorns, scabbed knees...
tears, screaming matches over who's paying;
happily and unhappily ever after.

this is laughter, and
blue bouncy balls of death;
padded walls, and
a million rays of annoying sunshine.

this is you.
this is me.
this is us...

this is how it feels when
time and again, you
turn toward me and
seemingly out of nowhere, blurt,
"what is this?"
i, dumbly, don't have an answer.
(perhaps words simply don't
have the flare i'm looking for...)

01/29/2003

Posted on 07/29/2003
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe