or A Love Like Theirs
Two birds flying in the blue-pink sky,
towards de distance, slow approaching,
overlooking the clouds they fly by.
Wandering, wondering all but why,
for Love is their fuel, brightly burning.
From much different regions they each came,
yet they found connection in the arts,
and in the beauty of the love game.
Hopes and dreams differences would not tame,
for strenght and desire fills their hearts.
Feathers and wings all made out of gold,
rolling, twirling; a poetic dance,
in unison they waltz, never fold.
With each movement their story is told,
and forever hence, they hold their stance.
A love ballet for the watcher’s eye,
whimsically, love birds come in pairs.
Two birds flying in the sky, and I-
I contemplate as they pass me by,
ever longing for a love like theirs.
–a bystander of our love