There is No Such Thing as Old Love

-

There is no such thing as old love

There is only love

Once you love someone

They leave an indelible mark on your soul

Even if they hurt you terribly

Or they somehow wandered away

You still have love for them

In that very place they left it









There is still a trace of every set of lips

That has ever kissed yours

Sometimes they are regrets

Sometimes they are blessings

You can’t bring an end to love

There are no walks or runs or rubber bracelets

To rid the world of love

When Love walks out your door

 You just have to believe 

 It will march back through that door

 Without that belief

 You just may miss it

 Happy Valentines Day to all of those who have found love and to all of those still brave enought to believe they will find it again.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

LISA AUDREY COHEN - WRITING YOUR LIFE STORY

-
Image
    We all have events in our lives that imprint upon our memories. Some are happy, some are sad. We all have regrets of what was and what could have been. We all experience and surrender to love whether it is a lifetime commitment or a night of passion. Our memories are sparked by the scent of cooking, a song, a place we return to where we spent our childhood. While some of us walk a straight line (the job, the career, the partner, the kids, the house), others take detours. They travel the world, have various partners and live one day to the next.  The paths we take bring us to people and places where we settle, build a foundation and a LIFE THAT BECOMES OUR STORY. For over 20 years, I have been ghostwriting for those who want to share their life story. Whether in their twilight years or their prime, they all possess A SLICE OF BRILLIANCE.  Their life experiences are fascinating and through an intense interviewing process that takes sometimes a year or more, I am able to SCULPT AND SH
Read more

GROWING UP IN WENTWORTH PARK AND AT BLOSSOM POOL

-
Image
  I remember the sound of the ball coming in contact with the bat. The wood bats had a hallow kind of smack, while the aluminum had a ping. I remember the lamplights turning on, slowly, hesitantly flickering before reaching their full strength, the moths dancing in the warm spotlight. I grew up in a small white house, along with my two brothers, on a one-way street called Wentworth. The park was our backyard. It’s where we learned how to play basketball, baseball, hockey and how to look out for one another. Our parents worked several jobs to make ends meet. We lived a simple yet fulfilled life. We were kids with 3 baseball diamonds, two basketball courts, a shack to play “wall ball” against, a jogging path behind Diamond 2, a playground beyond that, and our very first school, Wentworth School across the street, beside yet another landmark, Blossom Pool. We had a neighbour who talked to the bus drivers, whose rest stop was in front of our house. His name was John “Babe” Learie. He also
Read more

FRIENDS

-
Image
 I’m 16, hopping fences, one backyard to the next. It’s Fall and the air is hinting that winter is on its way. It’s one of those nights when you can smell everyone’s dinner cooking. It’s dark out, earlier than the previous month and the kitchen lights are on. I can see entire families seated at the table, eating, talking, enjoying the end of another day together. I see single people alone, watching TV, eating slowly, stepping outside of themselves, wondering, when this became their nightly routine and how they ending up alone. I reach my house and enter the back door that we keep open because I am always losing or forgetting my keys. There are meals prepared for the week by my mother. My parents are both working, and my brothers are nowhere in sight. I warm up some chicken and rice and I am just about to chow down when the phone starts ringing, back in the day when everyone had a “land line” and if you were talking and someone else was trying to reach you, well they got a “busy” signal
Read more