Price Of Love

The price of love is loss and letting go
when the we becomes the I or the me from either side,
Or both at once.
It is the smiling lie,
the caressing hand,
the long goodbye.

From swaddling to wedding,
a broadside across the years.
It is the plough and harrow of the heart.
A rising, falling star that only we can see.

It is written on the walls of every room there ever was,
and screams its tally from a cuckoo's gape.
And rounds up the rocks where once I walked with you.

Its code is in the songs we sing,
that tell us what we are,
and what we're not.
Oh and it's high and hard,
and fierce and sad.
But in the end it's what we had,
and, therefore, really all we've got.