Love’s Researched…


When struck, your strings plucked to play,

Assume then, love’s a ball all the way,

Promises dance, swear to stay,

Twirls Joint laughter,

Tiptoes to the floor, Joint disaster,

When you’re understood,

The way she should,

Grows around a Paradise,

To express you don’t think Twice,

Slow and steady burns your lamp,

Beams up monstrous, kindles a sudden surprise,

Dulls down at patches damp,

And, again back to steadfast disguise,

Soon, a pond is born out of thy eyes,

Surfaces therein, lubricants of compromise,

Floats in logs of sacrifice,

Some make it through,

They make it true,

When freezes the clime ,

Frost-free remain only a few,

Some sink, choosing to make-up wise,

Some crumble away, breaking ice…



(Stay tuned for the sequel to this post, ‘Loving Me…‘)



Images from :,

5 thoughts on “Love’s Researched…

  1. what an unusual metaphor, Deba, and I must say: you find ways to tie things together I have never thought of…in a way we are all logs–cut off from the “tree of life”, and I have such an image of this now in my mind–logs bumping down a water canal, weathering a storm–but, you know…dead…

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