By what magic

does she come crashing through the wall of interruption,

and

what kind of love
persuades her to behave as though she never arrived?

 

Yours to comment

Where does our laughter go when we die and where, tell me, our tears?

Yours to comment

Do tears and sighs have a secret arrangement whereby one or the other gets to react first to the shredding of dreams?

Yours to comment

Which is your preferred final resting place,

a teardrop,

a leaf,

the memory of a shared moment

or

a country called Happily Forgotten?  

Yours to comment

Where do spent rainbows go to recover

colour, a drop of water or a ray of sunlight?

Yours to comment

What should I call this terrible and tragic potency of hers that transforms all into a borderless territory of longing?

Yours to comment

When the pacifist is bested by the pickpocket, does he say 'be my guest'?

Yours to comment