Love’s Tumbleweed Propensity


Isolated yesterdays
Feeding off arid ghost town dust,
While ancient choruses of tumbleweed
Keep passion’s past perpetually moving.

Wind-blown footprints weave gracefully through
Structures of Emotion’s main street,
Where milestones once fresh of adorned colors
Appear mirage-like,
Even as their essence remains alive.

Questioned of age,
Experience remains confident of purpose,
Defying rejection,
Lifting its tumbling history
Above and over obstacles,
Willing to chance its foreverness at any cost.

Such are one’s dreams tempting wakefulness,
Cautiously holding steady for a rebirth
Behind shuttered windows of slumber,
Awaiting the sun’s rise each morning,
Eyes opening with anticipation,
Lifting one, then two eyelids of daring,
Inviting rays of light to sift through yesterday’s shadowed confinement,
Encouraging a rigid mind to embrace smiles once again,
Invite love’s enigma,
Permit it to fortify its often fickle nature,
The chance of rediscovery.

For…

Even as another day rushes forward to fade,
One’s ghost town of love
Wants only to raise yesterday’s rolling shadows toward the light,
Desiring to be haloed in the dust,
To coalesce with love’s sunset
And make ready the gamble
A tumbleweed seed at a time…

Once again.