IT WAS LOVE FOR WHAT IT WAS
Like meadow flowers
sitting still by the sidewalk
on a night when the moon
is in full bloom
sometimes love blossoms
when nothing is groomed
in the vacant mind,
to seize upon and brood.
You just notice something passing by,
absently,
much later when gone too far on the way
you know
it was love for what it was.
Like meadow flowers
sitting still by the sidewalk
on a night when the moon
is in full bloom
sometimes love blossoms
when nothing is groomed
in the vacant mind,
to seize upon and brood.
You just notice something passing by,
absently,
much later when gone too far on the way
you know
it was love for what it was.
Goodnight everyone
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