Like lingering aromas
Of baking bread
Of newly discovered
Rustling tissue paper
Hiding wanted gifts
Of streets steaming
By summer rains
Of shushing tires
After thunder storms
Of white blankets
Bathing northern pines
Of orange moons
At harvest time
Of acrid smells
In hay lofts
Of espresso’s fingers
Tickling early mornings
Of the plumpcity
In children’s cheeks
Of the first
Wet lapping kiss
From a puppy
These always remain
As they were
Simply deliciously fresh
Upon eating ice-cream
We lose taste
Within two minutes
Then it’s simply
Cold and smooth
Has this happened
To you with
These simple words
That I write
Have they suddenly
Just become cold
And smooth and
Always there expected
Or do they
Still dance tickling
You like fingers
Over your ribs
Or the seldom
Seen yet always
Ah’d shooting star
Or have they
Become another pair
Of worn shoes
Or the umbrella
Left for storms
Or the dusty
Out of tune
Instrument of yesterday
Tell me honey
Do these words
Still toll sweetly
From far off
Steeples reminding you
Of time gone-by
If not I
Shall keep writing
Not to you
But with you
In mind for
You my love
Are always here
On these pages
If nowhere else
Early morning sun
Poked through trees
Splashing the street
With yellowed white
Every green imaginable
Captured before you
Like wildly grinning
Children caught off-guard
Zoe on leash
Prowled like thieves
Foraging for breakfast
Your shadow there
Danced like ghosts
Thinking of me
This morning’s walk
Every so often
I venture downstairs
To that room
Where the things
Are all hidden
Candle in hand
I rummage through
Times long ago
Push aside some
Let others go
Until I spy
That one thing
Which causes me
The most anguish
For it’s only
There in that
That I remember
What I’d lost
Then tucked away
It goes again
In the hope
That one day
I’ll forget it
Along with you
There’s a
Type of
Love which
Most people
Assign great
Value they
Consider it
The love
The best
Love or
Grandest love
The one
Love and
The forever
Love the
Marriage love
And the
Affectionate love
The love
Of rings
And promises
And oh
The love
That the
Creator anoints
But really
That love
Like so
Many others
Is just
A love
A present
Love no
It’s not
Puppy love
Or giggly
Love or
Summer love
Or even
The friendship
Love try
Not to
Pander to
Hierarchies of
Love just
Love simply
And beautifully
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 