rumors going
round –
someone noticed love
– but couldn’t say
for sure
it wasn’t less

wearing clothes
that someone chose –
spoke when spoken to
holding yet to reasons
 unconfessed

wrapped in dreams
or so it seemed –
flowers perfumed so
held to names
and places
was thought where love
should go

but somewhere here
are others still
who tell of love’s demise
was rocked
 on planks of cedar
beneath uneven skies

gave a heart
of compass –
would point the ways
to home
forgotten now
the weight of love –
is never waited
long

. . .