POEM: Kind of Love
There is the kind that catches the light
And decorates whatever it surrounds.
There is the kind that is silent, small and unobtrusive.
There is the desperate kind,
Struggling like the last orange autumn leaf
There is even messy love that has lost its way, forgetting what it is.
Then there is the block-of-clay-immutable-and-square
It never gives in but just wears on –
It is as aromatic as a sky-flower, as fecund as warm
Cakey soil below.