Mercury

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“The cost of flight is landing.” Jim Harrison
Love soars in on the wings of the fleet-footed god,
making paupers of rich kings
A petty thief, stealing as it sings, tugging at heart-strings
with no thought of pain or peril.

 
Once you’re in its grip it’s fruitless to plan an escape,
for love is the master and you the obedient slave
While it trifles with your innocent soul.

 
When it takes flight with the scent of jasmine filling Spring air
Love teases your bruised heart, pretending it cares
only to land dead at your feet with every mis-step you make
in the giving of your heart to another.

©2018 Linda Lee Lyberg
Author’s Note: Catching up on the first few days of the 28 Days of Unreason Challenge at Jilly’s.
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