Amidst the smoke
from the pan where you cook
blackberries are turned in jam,
here, sat and looking, I am.
Holding yet, jar in hands
another loving word won't be said,
I tell you a joke instead
you laugh and love is there.
Our laughing, and the smoke:
love disguised amongst
jam, jars and jokes
A smell that evokes
all untold love
circumscribe us.
As the blueberry jam,
winter and wartime food,
this love is to last if not left ajar
but hermetically sealed, and contained
within the love jar.
from the pan where you cook
blackberries are turned in jam,
here, sat and looking, I am.
Holding yet, jar in hands
another loving word won't be said,
I tell you a joke instead
you laugh and love is there.
Our laughing, and the smoke:
love disguised amongst
jam, jars and jokes
A smell that evokes
all untold love
circumscribe us.
As the blueberry jam,
winter and wartime food,
this love is to last if not left ajar
but hermetically sealed, and contained
within the love jar.
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