Its Feb, and it's a time for Romance, only I haven't got any...

Ships

It’s the dilemma of all an age,

That love is just a story, the ultimate

Romance, the ginger in the dance.

The eyes that meet in the night,

The inner light, the twisted toes –

That curl up if you meet – and lift

Me into Your arms. 

How can we resist such chemical

Reaction?  Bite on society norms –

Which have fluctuated along our time

Line, into something we must understand

As toleration of any and every variance

Which wanders along…  and makes us all

Wrong.  Love is complicated.  It should never be

A completed circle between two, because

There are always uncompleted others.

It’s February, and amid the sentinel flowers

There is a resistance to the moment of

Discovery.  There is a danger of possibilities.

Our acceptance of self is threatened.

There is so much variance,

that we are imperilled.

We are lost to each other –

Ships that pass in the night.

Lost in no light.

We flounder on rocks.