James Friedman |
Your love is such that in light of absent rains, roses still flourish; but on the surface or in the deepest depths of my heart
Yours remains the crux of my pursuits
hugs that warm me in the winds of winter
And kisses that carry me like leaves on a breeze through autumn to winter’s end
To resurface through ice, drought, and time
Mine is a game we play forever
While we laugh, dine, and cry
Picking up the pieces of our hearts
Until none are left behind