Would we imagine seeing so far in our lives
we could predict or at least know
beauty we perceive eventually arrives
within the miles we might choose to go
to find her heart, hold his smile
we are consumed is a mystique on trial.
I once knew someone in a decade long ago,
where we were children by standard in age
and yet the romantic airs of a time shall go
as a summer breeze will define this adage
as memory in a nostalgic interlude swoon
for do we seek elegance inside our moon.
Could be there might a confusion over come
the wonder of how lives would today become
so lovely, so unimaginably important in eye
those places we go to search our silent sigh.
In his smile there is a rather pleasant curl
of lip that would define his own head a swirl.
Love might be a language we will all desire
if in favor known travels a passionate fire.
© Thom Amundsen 1/2021