Text Box:   most poems speak of passion undying fires of love; calm hearts are out of fashion, loud crows replace the dove   but what I treasure in us is less the flame and heat, than this feast without the fuss that leaves my heart replete   you are my safe-moor harbor, the still amid the storm, you are my steady arbor, the hearth that keeps me warm   I know these lines are missing the standard words of love: ardent adjectives for kissing, avid adverbs thereof   but trust me when I tell you that what you offer up, tender acts steadfast and true, these overfill my cup   with you do I feel peaceful, with you, there is no pain; this comfort is so joyful but harder to explain   you’ll hear no purple prosing when I describe we two, but let me say in closing I need no one but you                  

 

 

 

 

 


       purple prose

 

                             by TR