A complex thing

Methinks that love is a

complex thing, for it grows

in darkness and hides from

the light, and forms in

softening shadows that lay

across the deepening souls

of those who expected less

but received much more.


Shall we venture to the heart

of love and tread the journey

with unexpected turns in this life

lived under the sun, the clouds

and the waiting, watching moon?


I seek this love, and not seek it

at all, for it lies in reach but is

as elusive as a rainbow in a storm.


Therein lies the mystery of love:

hidden in the shadows, fleeting,

a companion and friend but not

defined—a treasure. waiting to be

found, around the corner, over the

hill or sitting snugly by the fire

in the corner of my home.