Love is
an old biscuit tin lid
with a painted scene
so lovely in it’s own
quaint way that you
can but smile at such
pretty panoramas
until the day comes
while wandering the
roads you drive round
one more bend and
there it is, the self
same scene exactly
as perfectly projected.
The electric jolt
of shared memory
shocks you both
into silence as
quietly, with no
apparent thought,
you reach over to
hold hands again.
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Author: connellykevin
Writer, poet and photographer.
Lover of all musical genres, from acoustic to zydeco.
Born in Ireland of Scottish descent and proud of both.
"I sought a theme and sought for it in vain,
I sought it daily for six weeks or so"
WB YEATS
Many of the themes here presented and to be presented have taken me a lifetime rather than six weeks. Some have taken mere moments to arrive. All are offered freely and it is my hope that you, dear reader, will gain something by browsing here and that I in turn will gain something by presenting these works to you.
View all posts by connellykevin
Lovely, and poignant. Thanks, Kevin.
Dia duit Kevin. This is quite lovely, and so very true. Mile buiochas. ~ Beannaichte’