Often, it’s hard to trust what’s true,
when it’s wanted so badly it
sometimes leaves you feeling
a damn fool.

I know her love is rich and as
warm as the dark coffee and sweet cream
in my cup.
So I drink her down, down, down
and she picks my tired soul up
from the ground that I had been
laying on.

She’s my Nature, she’s my Sun, a
a field of flowers which clings
to me that I roll in until
the dawn comes.

I can’t catch her lightning, and
wouldn’t want to try,
She’s finally escaped that bottle,
the lids far flung
I’m just trying to keep up
with her escape
as she runs.

I’m not worried,
I know her eyes will always
find me as I know her gaze seeks
only my own.

I love her truly,
as true as she loves
me, and I would be the
fool to ever
wander away from such a
passionate love that
has all my
affections for all the
time that life
has left for us
to be.

by Philip Wardlow 2020