Maybe Love is in New York City,
already asleep.
You are in California,
Australia,
wide awake.
Maybe Love is
always in the wrong timezone.
Maybe Love is not
ready for you.
Maybe you are not ready for Love.
Maybe Love just is
not the
marrying type.
Maybe the next time you
see Love is
twenty years after
the divorce.
Love looks older now but just as beautiful as you remembered.
Maybe Love is only
there for a month.
Maybe Love is
there for every firework,
every birthday
party,
every hospital visit.
Maybe Love
stays.
Maybe Love can't.
Maybe Love
shouldn't.
Love arrives
exactly when Love is
supposed to.
And Love leaves
exactly when Love
must.
When Love
arrives,
say, "Welcome,
make yourself comfortable."
If Love leaves,
ask her to leave
the door open
behind her,
turn off the
music,
listen to the quiet,
whisper, "Thank you for
stopping by."