poetry, trails of thought

Pic [Claire]

Pic is a picture

But also a choice:

And if choice I must make,

And I am happy to accept 

That in certain cases

A condition 

May be a condition 

For happiness to condition 

Truly a life,

I choose you as wife –

If you choose me as husband –

Over art as strife

And way of being rife.

Above all

I yearn my happiness and yours

More than the pain of

Artistic gain.

And that’s the truth 

As I feel it surer

Than this old and retold yore I ever did tell.

I love you, dear Claire,

As the air of my strive

And my very alive.

And though you say nothing,

And that is your right,

The heights of 

Delighted experience 

And your presence wild and free

Shall now never leave me,

Nor leave me be.

You are no toxic obsession –

Just a rhyme I fail now to ever

Remove from my kinder mind.

A mind you uncovered

And recovered

And remembered

And recalled.

And if you never now choose 

To answer my pleas[e],

At least hear this


Just the thought of you is release quite


For me

To think only of the future,

And hold close to me 

Your pic.


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