She [sonnet]
She won’t knock upon your door politely
and neither will she ask to be received;
What she gives should not be taken lightly:
Accept the fact you will one day be grieved.
Sometimes she steals up on you from behind;
at other times she slaps you in the face.
Your isolation will be undermined;
she’ll teach you all you need to know of grace.
Yet, many only touch her in one part
or snatch a lock of hair kept in a drawer.
The secret is to give her your whole heart
for then you’ll find she’s yours for evermore.
The she of which I speak is plainly love
which fits me like a hand inside a glove.
© 2012, Alan Morrison
The Naked Troubadour 