Love of the Man

Create a little note of love, by any other name; for there is only one being obsessed. You fall asleep thinking about the shades of an earlier heaven. The whispers, they sing today, every single blissful daffodil swept away. The ice is solid, so create a new light and paint a picture of tomorrow. Because, in the morning, truth so accurate it’s scary, is pure and alone.

By: Russell Banks