The Word Love
Sometimes you can see yourself
In a burial suit stretched-out in a coffin,
Your hands cold and gray, expressionless face.
If there is no God, we vanish away
Into the fog of meaninglessness.
There are no shoulders I can kiss
That will remain forever majestic
In a sleeveless summer blouse,
But perhaps they’ll lie beside me
In an adjoining grave.
I’m trying to carve the word love
Into stones impenetrable by time and weather.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Added by Poetry Lover
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