i sicken myself
to write of love.
of love.
of love!
surely there are grander things:
natural wonders and ancient kings,
philosophy and faraway places,
majestic creatures and beauteous faces,
bloody wars, royal feasts, the end of an age,
wizards and goblins, a knight and his page,
dream visions, saints, accomplished deeds,
terrain traversed and big men on big steeds,
colors of the sun and twinkling stars above,
all grand subjects.

​

yet,

​

i can’t part from Love.