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The Beehive

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December Reverie

Is there a time when love is new?
Love is old, as old as the rocks,
the sea, the air.
Love is a liar as timeless as eternity.

The singer sings her blue song,
the sort that lingers such a long time
after the truth has been washed
in the whiteness of life.

The memory of you lies against my heart,
like a cold soul seeking an ember
from the banked fire,
in the depth of a winter night.

by Deborah Beachboard

First published in Twilight Ending
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*And all variations
The Beehive is copyright 2002 by Deborah Beachboard
Poems are the property of the individual author and may not be reprinted without permission.