Loose Ends [sonnet]
If, from the start, we’d only been good friends
with me not hijacked by your whirlpool streams
we wouldn’t have to leave all these loose ends.
(Once more I learn that nothing’s what it seems).
Your vortex hit me like a speeding truck.
I knew you wanted more than I could give
(to tell the truth I wasn’t thunderstruck)
so I became a restless fugitive.
However, what blazed up was not in vain.
there are no accidents, as we both know;
and though we’re now like strangers on a train
experience provides a chance to grow.
Who knows? In other worlds our paths may cross.
Where love has been, one cannot suffer loss.
© 2012, Alan Morrison
The Naked Troubadour 