January 2001 / Volume Two / Issue One
Paul Brown

There is a quietness about you
It hangs on you like webs that cling
And catch at your silk stained heart.

It closes in on your chest and
makes you breathe shallow and small,
Hands held tightly folded and quivering
Beneath your throat glow warm as a sigh escapes.

To know Love is to feel its death
Even before it has finished being born,
When the pain of choice is upon you,
And its life is not yet certain.

To know Love is to cry out fierce angry tears
As snow falls in early autumn on leaves
Only just settling to the ground
Where the quietness about you
Hangs like webs that cling.
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