I know no more of love
I know no more of love
than I know of poetry,
a poem fragile
as an Indian pipe,
a plant without
color.
I found one
of the plants
in the woods
near the country
club.
I know no more
of love
than I find
in you green
eyes.
4 thoughts on "I know no more of love"
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So good. The best things
are unknowable
You are so right, Jim.
I like this! It has a classically lyrical, almost Shakespearean quality, good job.
I’m glad you think so. Kevin.