JenniferElluin

It waxes and wanes sometimes, This thing I call love. Perhaps it is like the moon. Even if it seems to disappear from time to time, You know it's still there. Gravity is a b**** that way.

For a time, the sun shone bright, The hoser hosed with near delight, The beaver pond, that drainéd pool. “This is not so bad,” thought the fool. The leaves fled swift before hose spray. It seemed she’d be done straight away. When all a sudden, the sky grew dark, The wind picked up with menace.  Hark! A thousand leaves swirled all around, Yellow intruders upon fresh-hosed ground. Despair let loose the keeper’s cry, “No!  No, stop!  Don’t do this!  Why?!” In answer only came more leaves. Determined, the keeper rolled up her sleeves. “A curse upon autumn,” she declared with spite. She to

if my heart glows, like incense, slow burning, consumed and drifting in wisps, it is an ache I know well. do you suppose a candle longs for flame?