what is love and how and why
it is a question crying for an answer
an answer waiting
always waiting for the one
to ask the question
love is warmth and security
and yet also
pain and the icy cut of future disaster
the fear which runs in the blood
the torment of imagined future loss
and yet we seek
and long for the one
who will take our breath away
the one who will make us whole
and therefore vulnerable
in our need
I am hers
I doubt that she imagined me
in her dreams of the future
perhaps not quite the one she would have chosen
we do not choose
we tumble heart first into the chasm
some reckless hellbound and determined
following the ancient instinct
knowing
that love is worth the pain price
we will someday be asked to pay
while others tread more softly
advance more slowly
wary of opening their heart
to the possibilities and futures unknown
and yet love persists
and so I am hers
without question without doubt
she is not who I would have expected
to take my heart and make me hers
but the fates decreed
and so it is
in some ways we are the same
and yet at times
as different as night from day
for I exist in a world of impulse and impatience
enchanted with the written word
and the intricacies the intimacy of romance
a dreamer howling wolf like at the moon
for a togetherness seldom possible
and she is she mine
our future set and safe
my beloved girl so careful with her heart
did she too tumble into the chasm of love
does she find her joy in our togetherness
her heart does it ache
in our times of absense
for she is far more sensible than I
does she consider reality more often
than she may weave dreams
my maker of art through the camera lense
who will wait with patience for perfection
my baker of tarts and maker of jams
my beloved french woman
my last love
Copyright © Eryll Oellermann August 2021
Thursday 21 October 2021
the maker of jams
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