Afterthoughts

Memory, that unlocked drawer

Where words go in,

Come out no more,

Is of the past.

An afterthought,

In which no thought

Is last or lost

But filed away

For some future date,

When the secret word is said

And the magic key is found

To loose the heart for love

And free the head

From hate.

.

Love, the sweetest plum

Which from the tree

Of life has hung,

Was picked

And then the eater felt

A melancholy sadness

In his heart

When from his paradise

He left, even though his love

He won’t depart,

Forever.

.

Eluding classification, description,

Evading imagination’s images,

Frustrating fragrant phrases,

And escaping time

Is this love of mine.

.

No ends of thoughts are thoughtless ends

When to my mind for thoughts I send

But all the thoughts that I can see

Are all the thoughts that endless be.

.

Another Afterthought

No thoughts had I of anything

Or at least that’s what I thought

I even thought I couldn’t think

But now I think I never thought.