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.