Thursday, April 4, 2013

The Hope of Seeing

The Chinese symbol for love
looks, to me, like someone reaching
out as well as pulling in, of looking
heavenward while pointing to the earth.
It looks happy, as is fitting.
No poetry today, no verse or rhyme,
no easy flow of words from pen
or tongue could possibly or adequately
convey the way her heart sped up
at just the hope of seeing him again.
It made no sense, the quickening of breath,
warmth spreading everywhere
until, she blushed a little at the thought,
surely everyone could tell, just by
the way she seemed to smile from eyes
to mouth and back without
an easy explanation.



(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013


Just feeling a little romantic. I come by it naturally: my mother is a romantic, as is my sister. There are different kinds of love, all of which are valid and necessary to optimum human existence, but I personally think that romantic love, when coupled with other kinds - friendship, selflessness, a desire for God's best for another - can bring together the best of what love can be. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

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