My love is not
perfect
Far from
I took it for granted
Allowed it to shrivel
and prune
The thorns larger
than
The roses
Love is more
Than a feeling
But the feeling
It’s a commitment
A selflessness
A painting that is
Never Finished
I have allot
Of learning
To do
Mixing
Black root beer
With
White Ice cream
Letting the two
halves
Mix and become
One
Letting go
Of resentment
Knowing your fear
Was not a way
To control
Rather
A place of your love
For me
As my burn
Shows
Still allot
Of learning
To do
Maybe one day
My love
Will be perfect
I will be
Dead by
Then
But everyday
Little by little
I keep learning
Maybe one day
I will get there
Until that day
I will struggle
And yearn
And be
Forever thankful
That you are
At my side
Leading me
To the
Perfect love
That we
Share
I love this. This is a great one.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteI do too. People have this notion that love is a noun. But really, it is an action word; a verb; something to nurture and appreciate and offer by doing. Many do not know this. My mother taught me this. Then my children, then my sweet husband, with little sprinkles of realization from a good man in front of a congregation. Keep up the great learning. Nice poem!
ReplyDeleteIt really is a verb...Love is action
DeleteThank you for the comment
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDelete