deepundergroundpoetry.com
Love Ebbs
The torrents have receded,
and the river is low.
The bankside reeds dry and brittle
like yesterday’s plans.
What is left in the bed,
but hard stones, worn and tired?
Don’t wait for the rains,
they come unbidden and untamed.
There, behind the thorns
of self-doubt and restlessness,
are the springs.
Hold your heart out like a cup,
and fill it to the brim.
Drink, sweet one
and refresh yourself.
and the river is low.
The bankside reeds dry and brittle
like yesterday’s plans.
What is left in the bed,
but hard stones, worn and tired?
Don’t wait for the rains,
they come unbidden and untamed.
There, behind the thorns
of self-doubt and restlessness,
are the springs.
Hold your heart out like a cup,
and fill it to the brim.
Drink, sweet one
and refresh yourself.
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