I Want To Be In Love Again
“I want to be in love again, ” she whispered
to the sachet fragrance of her dresser drawer.
“I want to be in love again, ”
to the scented whisps of spring about her window,
to the cadences of her heart in the morning silence,
to the letters of long ago, ribboned and tied, neatly in a pile.
It’s time to be in love again.
Time for the sun to rise red above the hill,
Time for the rose bud to open and flower fragrantly,
Time for the winter snow to melt flowingly,
and time even for wounded hearts to have their healing,
to love again,
to love again.
This new rhythm beating within,
this new light in the blueness of her eyes,
this new tenderness of breath,
the rising and the falling of her breast
I want to be in love again,
I want to be in love again.