Our Love
7/8/23 – Colorado: in a field out beyond right and wrong.
Our love ain’t water under the bridge.
Its middle of a field in a place that
could be easily the same as anywhere.
Our love is a kickball battered and bruised.
But still in play, working for a win.
A favored jacket, worn so through the years
patched and mended.
But still elegant, warm and dry.
The ink in this pen dribbling
silliness,
love,
hurt
and tears
in equal measure.
The quill may run dry
but the well never does.
Our love is the mortar that bonds our life.
Built one brick upon another
Until an empire is formed.
Not a great wonder of the world
But a civil society
Where friendship
and justice reign.
Our love ain’t water under a bridge,
Not passing down the stream.
It is a dam that collects all the
good and kindness that comes
to and between us
while we let the flotsam and jetsam
through the gates.
Our love is an ocean,
Vast and endless.
Stormy and violent,
Glassy and serene.
Be it the winds of life
or the tides of time
Our love abides.
It ain't no water under the bridge.