April 16th — Fidelity (L.A.M. — 4–12–20)

I’d like to think
                 As time moves on
And slinks or soars
                 To which degree it mustThat the heart of love
In all its forms
                        Stays airborne;
                        Hovering, slyly
Even when the strings
Are stretched by absence
                         
It’s a hummingbird
                         Suspended in its
Own melody
A subtle tune
                         That thrums inside
                         Our minds — but lies to us.
The tune resumes
               Whenever lives growVacant. And fools us into
Feeling that the friends we
                           Flutter with in memory
                           Will always stay
Floating in a stasis
                    Of longing — and belonging.Yet even Hummingbirds
Fatigue and need to rest 
                          So silences lose substance 
                          and interruptions lingerTil the friendship I misplaced 
Shan't be waiting on a wave
                            Of sound or spiritSometimes the sands - they just run out — —