I contemplate a lifetime’s vocabulary,
the word-stock of my existence, I hunger
for the fruits of my expression.
In my mind I browse the sub folders of
reality, Shakespeares sonnets, tales
of love and tragedy. Dickens victorian view
of love, I regard Miss Havisham
and her devotedness and broken heart.
Monetarily I ponder Estella, I pity her.
I glance through Marlowe, Byron,
Coleridge, Tennyson, Blake, Wordsworth
but alas even they have not written of
this love I have for you. I search the
lyrics of my souls melodies and listen
as the beats create chaos in my spirit.
Still I can not find the perfect way
to describe, that your love is my day.
Perhaps I’ll search a lifetime
to find the perfect way,
at least by then you’ll know,
my love was made to stay.
Karen Hayward ©2016