Where pain is unexplained, I liken it to love.
I liken it to childhood, too.
No? Isn’t it like looking deeply into brown eyes,
Into green, into gray, into blue?
Where pain is unexplained, I see sweet ripples on the pond.
If swimming is to lose, is drowning living on?
I think it must be so, where love is true,
And pain is unexplained.
February 27, after an early-morning walk in softly falling snow.
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Categories: New Poems & Pieces