The seasons changed,
And so did our love.
The fleeting, flitting, fickle first feelings of false spring before the second coming of winter floated on the breeze…
Gently, quietly, barely noticed, they swirled with the undercurrent of something more.
A sudden, not-so-unsuspected cold snap pressed hard against the uncertainty of emotion yet undefined.
Brief as it was, it revealed a blossoming warmth that gave hope for coming growth.
The green bud pushed forth, struggling against natural and unnatural adversities.
Cathartic sunbathing in blissful awakening, two hearts bound by evergreen boughs, transformed yet familiar…
Bloom in extant, stronger, and more reverent for their trials.
Elvis in the chapel Drive up to window #2 I vaguely recall We said our “I do’s” 20 years later Drinking champagne to celebrate How we caught lightning in a bottle In that Vegas drive-thru In our late night, love-drunk state
The prompt is “drive-thru lightning” from Maria Giesbrecht @theguelphpoet on Instagram. April 12, National Poetry Month 2022.
False prophets, you dig our graves with sinister divinations,
Bestow unrepentant indignation, and neglect to hide your shallowness.
Cast condescending shadows from high upon your sanctimonious mount, but
We wear our pride; our faith and love, our shrouds, and we will not be buried in the night.
Oh, I say woe unto them that call evil good and substitute darkness for light.
Oh, weary we may be, but forsaken we are not. Tread lightly when with lust and greed you choose to cast your lots.
She chokes back the tears
As she chokes on her fears
The love that she felt she forgets
The sun sets in her eyes
Over the lies
There were plenty
At times she believed many
But what she got was empty
What she couldn’t see
She can now see clearly