Chagrin d'amour

Why do seconds hang and stay

when my love is far away

and yet the hours scurry past

when she’s in my arms at last?

If only I could lock the door

through which the happy seconds pour,

find the lock and fit the key

to keep them in eternally.

It is because we love that they

rush off and leave us sad this way,

left without delight, chagrined

like swallows in the winter wind.

If our love were scant and spare

her absence would be light to bear

for though I would not have it so

the more I love the worse this woe.

December

Foul weather, darkness and the winter flu!

We should be blighted by this triple curse

but those of us who live December through

recall it fondly; January’s worse.

When darkness rules, December lights the lights.

Lights to remind us that there was a night

when from the very highest of the heights

came down to us a mighty Prince of Light,

in form a child but from the sovereign throne.

Whatever was more wonderful than this:

that he who strides the universe alone

should come to sanctify us with a kiss.

So hang your tinsel and your holly too;

they celebrate this miracle in you.

©Roy Ernest Ballard 2013