Love is the Seed of All War

Of lost sparkle and spire, tempered breath and desire,

dead wood barks the measures of time,
image dances freely upon hills of regret, but love still lays sills of my mind.
 
Past treasures buried where, amongst only tender and care,
sadness decors walls, beneath forever today,
laughter hides under floorboards of whatever was, 
but love in life will always remain.
 
Glory bathes in half light, entwining limbs and long nights,
tides wash tired insecurities ashore,
once laying our Queen is no longer seen, but to love is borne the seed of all war.
 
 

Love is the seed of all war

©Nick.Hawkins, all poetry rights reserved 27/8/12

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