Loose The Acorn And Loose Love.

When love is like a tree
It falls on its legs.
It cripples.
It stings like a leaf.
It is the choir of the bees,
It buzzes and songs are honey.

Or it’s all these things and more.
It is extra-galactic,
Z, emotional and tall.

When love is like a twig,
It is dead
Or gone.
It has had it away on its toes.
It worms and is dismally
X, void and small.

Christopher Thompson