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By wistful Date: 2002 Jan 02 Comment on this Work [[2002.01.02.21.23.12077]] |
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Nothing is ever really this good Where's the other shoe? The anticipation's killing me What horrible habit is yet to be revealed? What shadowy past will darken our future? What dementia or defect will destroy this . . . this perfection? . . .this welcome warmth, this powerful passion, this lasting love. . . As days turn to weeks, then months I'm still awaiting its arrival. Some days I let myself believe That it has already fallen But was so slight and of such small consequence That I never noticed its gentle descent. And on we went. On others, I imagine the longer we go The bigger the shoe must be Held high, high in the sky So its falling will create an incredible crash And destroy me Utterly. But each day you are more fixed in my heart So, if and when that shoe does fall: I may not care at all. I'd never trade what we have known For the surer path on my own. Great love risks a greater pain But risking such loss is worth all I've gained. |