Love Poem by Stephen Brian Brady

what is that thing called
that music is the food of

just a mirage, a fantasy, a dream
a candyfloss of thistledown
a melt-too-quick ice-cream

they caught it in a net
a butterfly still fluttering
so delicate
and yet
that was not love

it's what people are in
fall out of
can't find

it's completely contradictory to how we've been designed

so whoever's pulling strings
somewhere up above

give us something easy
what we want's not love