A love story #prose #poetry
I can’t pinpoint the exact moment
when I fell in love with Poetry.
Somewhere between the summer nights
and the carelessness of his hair.
Of course, he was a musician with this
hypnotizing rhythm and a smile like Chardonnay.
Just the way that he knocked at my door that autumn day …
I must have known for certain that I’d never be the same.
How he waltzed right up to me and took me by the hand.
How he whispered, we should dance …
and I felt so silly, only knowing a few steps
like the haiku shuffle, and the iambic slide —
but oh, the way he held me, right then I could have died!
All of it is beautiful, he said, because it’s you.
I swooned into his smooth talk, but deep down always knew
that my rhymes about my dog were only child’s play,
while a masterpiece he was, (but good heavens, still I blushed!)
On our very first date we hiked up into the forest—
and no, he wasn’t wealthy, but was richer than the royals
when he showed me all the jewels hidden, muted in my world,
and he listened ever gently to all my heart had to say.
To hear it as he did was like dining at the Ritz.
As never had I seen the sky in such divine array
in a morning glory apricot.
And music — how it just lit up like candlelight!
And all the late-night drives… where was he taking me?
A coral beach at sunrise? Floating on the sea?
Somewhere down the way to a love, complex and deep?
I swear the way he knew me was like I’d known him all my life .
But my dear, he was a heartbreaker…
He showed me what it was to cry through all the pain —
oh, the pain! His pain, my pain — it was all the same.
An unanticipated turn into a ping-pong game;
ending in a knock-down-drag-out fight within myself
pinned into a corner. I had to write to get me out.
Impassioned in our nights and exposed in all my scars
that he kissed and turned to stars while we held each other tight.
We forgave and fell asleep, only knowing I’d awake as a new unburdened day
finding beauty ever steady than it was in yesterday.
On my journey never knowing where all of this would land,
but always being thankful for the journey he began.
Writing & Photography By: Katy Claire Funke