Friday, May 4, 2012

to love

it's been a long time and it's getting late --
teacup nearly empty; still the music plays

today a high-school teacher
breathes deep, speaks love
through English tomes --
he's telling the story

yesterday a mother-artist
drove to the city, imprinted love
deeply upon her neck --
she's a preacher's daughter

tomorrow a preacher's wife
arrives in Budapest, clutching love
with a few belongings --
she's going to make a home

i have neither degree, nor tattoo, nor foreign visa,
but i'll raise my teacup and sing along

to love