AFTER THE STORM….

For the times when you are cool and distant,
arms length oceans continents and worlds…

I will recall our weeping, clinging across continents like children in a storm,
lost in love that wavers brinks destruction…

For the times when flowers fail to come third hand, when books are faces faces gone,
like Easter eggs from family,dispatched delivered devoured but miss the love…

I will remember laughter that erupted out of nowhere and spiralled
with sentences half finished but uniquely understood….

For times you held another, laughed, paraded, strutted in your beauty
each bathing in your own reflected glory…

I will imagine Sunday jaunts to Mass, and beach, and dinner, children laughing crying too,
and soft spots wounded boo boos we keep secret for a lover, me and you…

I dream those times would coalesce in beauty chasing rainbows where other than our God,
we would be or try to be all in all to you and me for you and me forever.

How foolish am I? I imagined briefly your lovers were not real…
just as I imagined my father wanted house plans to build my home for me…

oh treachery! Naivete!

Yet I will be a dreamer with hope and honour too…my lover will redeem me,
and heart and soul will melt in all things new…

Italian....Italian….

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