Tuesday, February 14, 2006


when the bus breaks down just beyond
the point of no return, we stand
and wait for a new destination

when the sun beats down but nothing
melts as it should, our bodies store
its rays in blocks of ice

when rain staggers down the scraped glass
of the shelter, we watch the rainbow
dissolving in the daffodils

each touch of love that seems to leave
no trace is buried in a fold and will
unfold in a different place


Paula said...

Being the romantic I am, I like this poem, love the great musicality and the message.

Rob Mackenzie said...

Thanks. I write one every year and it's never easy to find a new way of saying the same thing. Of course, the tried and traditional ways are often best in real life.