And love is good despite its end,
which never justifies its means
its meanness, or its cruelty.
To end as friends,
or so it seems - and seeming was,
and is, and shall
be all there is
that we'll admit. We nail it down.
Our hands are held, on board, on point
- bang mallet hard, that peg will fit. And that is all
that we'll allow.
And that is all.
Until whatever happens now -
the picture hung in frame on wall
- has time to fall.
A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years. Try the RANDOM button to sample the sometimes surprising breadth of quality (and in several Novembers, breathtaking quantity as well), or click the "ANY GOOD" label* for those poems labeled with it. On any poem, old or new, feel free to offer your remarkable insight or critical acumen.
*I haven't yet revisited many pockets and stretches of time to appraise and label the "any goods," so some are missing. Please feel free to point out omissions, or - especially - erroneous inclusions, in comments.