My love

this thing
of ours
is so fragile.
Like early morning
cobwebs, it gleams
and delights
with prisms of light through dewdrops.
Radiant rainbows abound.
Yet one small
gust of wind, or
the merest of tugs
may send it flying.

My heart aches at
the prospect
of its delicacy. It
is weak, and
incapable of
girding its own loins.

And so
I guard it
in my heart. Knowing
that we
have both
been down
this road before.
And that
disappointment
may lurk behind
even the tamest
remark, or unthought-through
gesture.

My feet on
the tightrope,
my hand in yours.
Eyes on the prize, I
look up. The high-tensile
steel spun strong,
beneath our feet.

This brings me
back to my senses.
2.5 billion cobwebs are said
to be able to stop a man
from falling
to his death.
And in milliseconds, that’s
just short of eight years.

We have
so
much more
time than that.
To flourish, to nurture
and to gather
together.

Yes, things change.
We shift, we grow,
and yet we
always retain the
essence of ourselves,
and that which is
dear to us.

A spark to
last
a lifetime.

~Lu