Kingsbrae 4.1
4 June 2017


Love wore a mummer’s mask.
Cloaked in mystery, it came,
tumultuous, to my door,
and sold me a pig of promises
wrapped in a colored cloak.

When love broke my heart,
I swore I’d never love again.
I chose instead a steady friend,
a singular flower growing
wild in the hedgerow.

Wine, I offered, distilled in
my own winery. Drawings
and paintings, poems, simple
things that rooted deep
and blossomed when least expected.

No passion now, no smoldering fire,
just a slow growing old together,
hand in hand, and a settling down
in comfort and joy, our glasses
filled with the sunshine and un-
tarnished gold that spell true love.

Journal: Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say. Sitting here, at my window in Kingsbrae, at 6:00 am on Sunday morning, the sunlight sews gold threads through my heart and I realize how much my life has been enriched by the person I have left behind in Island View. Those same gold threads that descend from the sun have bound us together across the years. Apart, we are not alone and I feel her fill me with light even as I sit  here at this window, typing these words, watching the sun rise up over Passamaquoddy Bay.


17 thoughts on “Love

  1. ‘Have you ever been in love, me boys, and have you felt the pain? ….. snippet of a beautiful song that you should look up.

    ‘And I met her in the garden where the praties grow…’

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you so much, Ana. Cyrano is one of my favorite plays (films, too). I have never reached the end without crying and I often quote his lines on Don Quichotte.
      : “Les moulins de vent, avec leurs grands bras de toile / ou vous jettent dans la boue … ” Ou vous lancent aux etoiles.” Best wishes and thanks for being here with me.


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