Saturday, August 29, 2009

Pop

The bubbles flutter, then they pop.
They land on the ground, falling where they stop.
And though they have a nepeta scent,
I wonder where those cat of ours went.

Nevertheless, when we're here at home,
Neither you nor I are ever alone.
Our love is not a passing fad,
And it is the greatest love there is to be had.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.