History Lesson

When I was young,
I loved you differently,
less well, less aware
of it’s preciousness,
of love’s real strength,

it’s ability to persist,

to survive winter storms
and emerge in a riot of color,
of that magic of faith
that makes, all things, yes
all things

possible, more than a fairy tale, more
powerful than our aging bodies,
love turns a mere touch of our hands
into a love story, turns mornings’ first kiss
into a joining of souls.

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The photograph was taken down the road, at Consider Bardwell farm. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom