What if I had stayed?

We were both unhappy,

miserable really.

Whether we were ready

to admit it openly

or not;

there was no clover field waiting for us,

the pastoral moments having long passed—

any sweetness remaining

quickly becoming the bitters

of an unreaped harvest.


Love is not a crop that can grow on its own—

requiring constant tending to;

a delicate orchid requires the right

amount of light and moisture;

a gentle, devoted attention.

I much prefer to live any life on a hillside

feasting on clover alone than tolerating

the flavor of bitterness in dried grass.

Hay would never be enough for me.

Some can love that way;

with cubed and stacked staples—

it would have been like that if I had stayed.

You would have kept on eating bitterness,

thriving on it,

but I was already starving.

2016 copyright by Katie Pifer




4 thoughts on “Love-Field

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