Lizzie Perring

The texture of love

The texture of love is the wind in the trees

Elusive till you catch a scent the herbs in the garden

The tearing of thunder cracks us open

and lightening sparks in our eyes

The texture of love is in curtains which we draw each evening

The switch on the standard lamp to illuminate the darkened room

The hand held

The birds' rhapsody

The texture of love is harsh and brittle

Aching and profound

It is in the pots and pans and the rose in the jar

In the maps of our journeys

The very good times

and the bad ones

The smell of lilac

The gardens and homes of strangers in which we wander

In the care of the National Trust

The old van to whose needs we tend

The old hearts that break and mend and break and mend

The texture of love is in all these things