There Is but You

There Is but You

 

(For Myrina, St. Valentine’s Day 2015)

 

-P-

 

Written in Recognition That Love Is a Succession[1]

Of Recurring & Gradually Evolving Vignettes

 

---

 

Yet, in the end, there is but you

To make the morning

And to speak

 

About the things

We know or knew

 

And reminisce

About the week

 

Sometimes a week

Is two or three,

 

Some months ago,

Or many years,

 

And you remember more than me;

And as I sigh, your smile appears

 

You mention something

 

I forget -

 

I question

 

What?

 

And wonder

 

Who?

 

And as we close

This old vignette,

A glance defines

 

The me-and-you

 

-

 

Yes, in the end,

There is but you

 

To keep me in

The bounds

Of day,

 

And chat about

The things we do

 

Before the morning

 

Slips away.

---

[1] Paris believed love could grow deeper even though its existence in physical reality prevents it from achieving its full potential. He once said he wished he had always loved his loved ones as much as he did in old age because, by then, he had begun to understand that love is not merely an asset but life’s most profound responsibility.

 

 

 

Author's Note

This piece is a part of my revised work, previously posted at WritersCafe.org. It is from a book in which some of the entries are written in prose or poetic prose.