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Guarantease
Love arrives
as a lottery ticket:
finite life,
but adorned with hope
and potential riches.
How we clutch the paper
maddeningly.
Fist clenched:
"Oh, we mustn't lose it.
Think of what it represents!"
Or what it may, anyway.
Guarantees
are seldom
and often disclaimed.
A receipt, soon expired;
a time bomb of worth.
Yet how we continue to scramble
for that one in a billion
gamble of a shot
as if our faith
cannot be stirred,
our efforts
never deterred.
And I believe
there is some beauty
in the way the chase persists.
For we are colorless
if not for rosy kisses,
and weightless
sans a burden shared.
To partake, and rejoice
that for a time
we were there.
