1
An aphrodisiac will disappear, delusional, like permanence or wealth - a shimmering, as if love were a ghost -and yet my passion for you seethes and searswithout an end. Late April leaves can’t cravecaress of dew, sunlight’s sweet splash, more than I pine for your embrace, us turned to one;when harsh reversals scar, the thought of you will salvelike summer wind in autumn; deep red bloodsurging along with mine, staid genes worked hotfrom your electric charms, as all my moodssuccumb to your sweet fire, and perfect wit. Now you are all I live for - loving you -in fleeting world of lies, you are the truth.Lauren Lipton
2
A hundred years or more, she's bent her crownin storm, in sun, in moonsplashed midnight breeze.surviving all the random vagariesof this harsh world. A dense - twigged veil drifts downfrom crown along her trunk - mourning slow woodthat rustles tattered, in a hint of windthis January dusk, cloudy, purplingthe ground with sudden shadows. How she broods -you speculate - on dark surprise and loss, alone these many years, despondent, bent, her bolt-cracked mate transformed to splinters, moss. Though not alone, you feel the sadness of atwilight breeze. There's never enough love;the widow nods to you. Her branches moan.Lauren Lipton