Tuesday, April 5, 2011

The Memory of Love

Like water, Love leaves its mark.

Its crumpled indelible sheen

Warms to the touch.

The hand of memory brushes

Ensorcelled pages of its worn book,

Savoring what is locked inside.

Illuminating its delicate pulsing prism.

1 comment:

  1. How sad and beautiful! Once touched by love never get immune to it...