I've never written you
a love letter, as I did for the girls
I crushed on in school,
vowing a childish forever love.
I've been told that both
can never truly be promised,
there are too many variables
upon which they can falter---
an unexpected loss
of mind and memory,
the foreboding phantom
of infidelity,
that our lifespans
are simply too long,
the decay of what we were
befalling while we breathe,
that the warbler outside my
window, his years but a
jaunt through junior high,
says it better,
his skyward pledge
to his treetop mate
daily putting me to shame.
Andreas Gripp
Andreas Gripp
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