Itself In Form

Honor, duty, compensation
when is that we’ll take the time
to truly love again.
And what, if not the feel of love
have we been living for...?

Life goes on, goes by;
the years become
no more than alibis,
in place of all the love
we could have shared along the way -
if only we believed it to be true.

And based our choices
ever present
just on this -
the love of all that is
that surely must
flow through itself in form...

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...