I painted her a brilliant morning, all in breathless light
she, a wondrous mountainscape scene
where half of heaven itself would hide,
and each picture was locked within our fingers
where they met in the cool of fall
never failing to realize
that the things we would become
could be so much more than we ever were.
Because when one meets another
it becomes ten thousand times greater
than it was on its own;
and that, my dear, is the glory-song
that the singer sings of Love.
Author notes
The trick to love is that it never rests quite still. It is always growing and moving and racing and whispering. Our aim is to be the archers, explorers, and lovers that never give up the chase. Oh, the song we will sing then, when the day is done and we have found ourselves so deeply lost in love!
-Thefallout
A contest entry
- And Thus, From My Lips, Love's Melody Echoed by lowercase prelude.
900 points, ended November 1, 2008, 18 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Your ending stanzas was simply amazing. I don't think this could have ending any better.
A very well penned poem, indeed -
Truly is all that, very beautiful.
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