www.whyville.net Jan 23, 2008 Weekly Issue

Whyville Poet

Arms Enamour

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Love, I can't help but think ahead to where the road splits for us;
I know the fine-toothed comb has run over this with a hand from each
Of our bodies pulling on it, forward, back, and left to right,
But, still, the tangles loom like darkness on the horizon,
Always just beyond my line of vision, but always obvious as rain

I wonder if the language of love is easily lost and if the passage of time
Is the broken compass or GPS device that'd be the last hope for holding on;
I don't expect for you to take my hand and guide my heart gently into acceptance,
And I know that as the tears now come, my heart won't relearn to climb
To where it is for ages; but maybe life will prove me wrong, and lure me with a hint

Maybe, when our paths diverge, they?'ll end the same or we'll both change
And find that though we're perfect now, the first round was correct;
If that should happen, I only hope that what you get is perfect;
Though I might hurt and could run mad, there's no reason for mirroring;
Leave this place of hopelessness and find that which your sights are set on,
And when you do, if you should choose, come back and be an acquaintance

By then I may have learned that love can be again and broken hearts do mend;
If that is so, I only hope that whoever could be the new girl to rope me in
Will stand a chance at crawling in your shadow;
But, maybe I'll be completely lucky, and I'll find her arms enamour,
The way yours do now, and the way I never dreamt I could have found
When everything turned around again and we became like binocular lenses, always side by side

And if I'm still alone when you return a stranger, I hope that we could link arms as friends,
Or if fate chose, our puzzles would become complete again, as we matched on both ends
Like each key to its lock and each print to its owner;
Love, the world is large and we're so small, but right now, we're all that matters


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