We are so different in character, me and my love, that sometimes, many times, I wonder how we have managed to stick together for so long.
Yet we have, and we do love one the other.
I am with Samuel Taylor Coleridge singing with joy; ‘I love my love and my love loves me!’. I wonder how it is possible.
I have been ruminating on a trip, wondering whether it would suit him.
The mystery of love. That is one thing that I cannot be sorry blogging about. (To think that I could have missed it, to remember that, though we love one the other, our actions are abhorrent in the eyes of my society, and criminal in law. That in part is why we fight on, why we want a change, where our love will not be demonised just because we love each other.)
The Mystery of Love
We are different people-
would he be content to stop and look,
rather than, overflowing with energy,
re-arrange everything around him?
I am most at comfort dreaming,
He is most at doing;
decisive, directed, combative,
he whelms all around
with the ceaseless energy his demands,
while I in silence contemplate
the varying shapes of the leaves,
or re-read the cadence of a sonnet:
will he be content with me?
©GayUganda 01 Nov. 07