It Poem by Elena V. Moonray

My love
is big as a stadium
and tiny
like a morning star;

it is weightless as a butterfly
and deep as a canyon;
it is funny like a cartoon character,
and dramatic like...like War and Peace;

it is thoughtless
like a child
and very stubborn, like a bull
sometimes;

sometimes it gets wise,
like a look on my
grandma’s portrait...
but not that often...

and it smells adventure, like wild
strawberries, just found
in the grass
after a thunderstorm...

It is something
I do not control,
it is independent
of me: although I am
made of it and
it flows through my veins,
I have no clue
what exactly it is
and how I should
properly handle It...


Oct 18,05