The dove tilted her head
and I paused to listen,
surprised when she told me
her name was Aphrodite.

A minute passed,
or maybe much more
and she warned that beauty
would tumble me in love
separating me often
     from the bonds of time.

The sunset by the bridge
the lyrics and the music
a spring garden daydream
the dark lure of shadowy eyes.

I’m falling

But beauty is ephemeral
and my dove flitted away
mocking the pleading eyes
of yet another fool.

The sun always sets
while the music fades away
the garden cedes
     to weeds, or winter
and those eyes –
     they look away so quickly.

I’m hurt

Had I been listening
I’d know Aphrodite will return
tomorrow, next week
     next year
it’s her course of love.

An achingly disorienting fall
settling into a soft cadence
waxing and waning
promising new wonders
     for those who take care.