Was it for nothing in particular
or for the swollen flood of fragments
I can no longer count as memories
that love comes more easily,
and love for more things
with fewer apologies,
less camouflage,
more pungently,
a bit clumsily,
as if all this light is new.
These breezes have combed out the knots.
My heart, less tightly wound,
is warmer, fatter, noisier,
and beaming
boldly, simply,
like the sun.
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Comments: 14
a taste of honey there
A sweet scent pours
and lingers in the air.
Good stuff.
Edward, I will try a couple of ideas, and post a revision.
"less camouflage,
more pungently,
a bit clumsily,"
That part - I love to read it aloud (I usually never read aloud)
... with all my heart!