Darling

by Catherine Simpson


It smells like hills after rain,

This country. Love.

Nobody told me it was like this—

Beauty of plainness, beauty of nature.

I thought love would be won-derful.

That’s how I wrote about it in my

Journal: I’m sure love will be

Won-derful. It isn’t.

To say I love you to someone

Is to say something akin to this:

You are my daily bread.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s