My How I Love, A Queen Named Rita Dove.

Golden Oldie

I made it home early, only to get
stalled in the driveway-swaying
at the wheel like a blind pianist caught in a tune
meant for more than two hands playing.
The words were easy, crooned
by a young girl dying to feel alive, to discover
a pain majestic enough
to live by. I turned the air conditioning off,
leaned back to float on a film of sweat,
and listened to her sentiment:
Baby, where did our love go?-a lament
I greedily took in
without a clue who my lover
might be, or where to start looking.

By Rita Dove

1 Engage in Discourse:

Niki Esko said...

Thanks for this post, it is needed!

I hope all is beautiful with you Ain.

Copyright © ain hd: Honorable Discourse
Blogger Theme by BloggerThemes Design by