“My love for you is long,
it crossed the oceans on a sail.
My love for you is true,
meanings change but not the tale.”
(#ThrowbackThursday – old writing of mine)
originally written in January 2008
Pen pressed to paper as she writes the other side of what happened, the words not sung but remembered. Faded photographic images with crisscrossed marks at the sides, once upon a time they danced on the rooftops, and once upon a time they still believed.
And yes, there is old poetry locked up in strong boxes, hope chests some would call them, moth ball heavy and nearly forgotten. In the late afternoons she turns each page over in her well-worn hands, too far in the past to bring tears now, though she misses them, her tears. Now she even misses the pain of loving him.
Funny how time does that, turns things fuzzy and transparent, as numb as our fingers in the harsh winter cold. He always forgot his gloves, and she would lean in, blowing breath into his hands to warm them up. But now the weather is ever warm, and he is forever gone.
My Love for You is Real :: Ryan Adams