Forty Lines/Two Hundred Words - On Love (Poetry)

There’s nothing that hasn’t been said
already — nothing new to add
except for this —
a brief appraisal from experience
I either had or imagined
in a flaming dream long, long ago
when all desire seemed healthy
young blood pulsing full of lust
no hunger was obscene
no kiss impossible.

First attraction was a fickle, random bird
a migrant summer visitor
arriving early — singing
in the blush of dawn
that touched down lightly
upon an undiscovered stretch of beach
and left a feather floating
in the tide of all that longing
one china-blue tail feather shed
for love to keep.

Romance was a sea unfathomable
every crossing an adventure
balmy saltwinds turning stormy
in an instant — joy was shipwrecked
hope left drowning
or abandoned on a lonely
coral island somewhere nameless
and uncharted — mere survival
the sole focus until rescue —
a new hero claimed the sun.

What of kindness — loyalty — trust? —
those sweet rewards years spent together bring
spell comfort — some security to
wrap round aging shoulders — warm
winter-thin frail flesh as well
as any fabric covering...
But passion’s heatwave — that sudden rush
has lost its fever — bled away while
sunset promises unending calm.

No spark to thrill today.