leaving love’s terrain

Well, the notes are played,
but the players gone,
we’ve sat down and stayed,
where we used to long.

Life is all around us,
lucky cigarettes fired,
but destiny is a coin toss,
And flicks just leave us tired.

Sometimes I’m lonely,
Sometimes I rhyme,
breaking the meter of lovely,
to find some space in time.

I’ve been born so many times,
striving to find the eternal life,
that now each and every mine,
is cleared right through of grime.

We advance through each life so slowly,
learning to love each other,
which is the only holy,
thing we can do without a bother.

At the end of each life,
only the rhythm remains,
singing in the strife,
that each loving memory sustains.

That beat eternal,
that emanates from us all,
is the only fraternal,
version of seconal.

We eat and greet,
live lives that are enviable to most,
but each time we try to meet
love it vanishes like a ghost.

Perhaps we should evade love,
leave it stranded at the lamp,
where it fit us in its feather dove,
and left us in rain alone and damp.

Perhaps we should take a train,
that old romantic image,
and leave love’s terrain,
in a sort of homage.

But love is always there,
waiting to smile upon us,
say it never left us to glare,
at the lights, it just wanted us to gush.

So we return, pilgrims to love,
asking in turn, when tickets to experience it,
are redeemed?