Less A Burden

this love is less a burden than
those arrows of cupidity
those fleshy rigours seated deep
within the breast of reason

the how of it is that I do not
love you as you say I do nor
is my love unique because
of yours for me 

manic years are now estranged
beyond their aching origins – of
breathlessness of elevated fears
in love for lust that duly waned

the why is hard to say – and yet
I know no other way to meet
your eyes less welcoming
surprised in warmth of greeting

we waltz a minuet in learning
love anew – an intimate complicity
that paved a way from where
we used to be to here

rapprochement has redressed
the where of it from coin-invested
vanity to warm-hand-touch reality
reformed as friendliness

the dance was dearly bought in
furnaces that forged the steel
we wield with confidence from
all those nearly broken years

the what of it is that of me which
heard the best of loves’ expression
rests in nested rhetoric
of sweetly written words
© 3 October 2008, I. D. Carswell