Posted by: Ron DuBour | September 21, 2015

Fickle is Love~by Norman Wilson



Fickle is Love

Fickle is my love
Similar to the ripening of a pair
Hanging and twisting in the wind
Then falling damaged without repair

Heavily falling to the ground
Unable to rise, again
Only to rot slowly away
Bruising a heart marked with stains

The pair lay golden upon the earth
In a garden lush and green
While the underbelly of its skin
Becomes damaged and unseen

Fickle is my heart, like the pear
That hides my love out of sight
Dangling freely in a strong wind
Not knowing if falling is alright

All rights reserved 09/21/15
Norman Francis


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