Another lightning bolt today. Ill find a place for her in my next sonnet cycle. I confess that I asked her to repeat her drink order simply to hear her speak a second time. With a voice as rich as caramel, and just as full and sweet, her accent was the broad Gael of Belfast. Not the English of the conqueror but the woman of Abhainn an Lagáin. Hazel eyes that smiled and the thick, soft, dark, tousled hair that said that she while didnt care that she was pretty, she might not mind if I noticed. This is why Ill always be single. Who is going to put up with a man who falls in love a dozen times a day with every pair of smiling Irish eyes that cross his path? With every rich voice or honest smile? With every freckled nose or crooked dimple? I suppose that there is a certain wonderfulness in that. I dont see beauty and then set about to seek within it to find love. When a beauty that is painted on smiles at me, I rarely see beyond the paint. But I do see love, and seek within to find true beauty. An honest smile is as good as an honest heart, and all of the world could hide in that, and I wouldnt want to see beyond her eyes and lips. So, while it does mean that Ill most likely never find someone who will put up with an eye that seeks love everywhere he looks, and responds with the heart when he sees it, it does mean that Ill never stop falling in love. I can accept being alone if those are the terms. If Im never going to stop falling in love, life is going to be more and more wonderful every day. I also confess, though you may laugh to hear it, that once-upon-a-time, I didnt believe in love. I was a fool. For a woman of Belfast with a great smile, a captivating voice, and honest eyes. There is a sonnet to come. Until then:
Posted on: Mon, 29 Dec 2014 04:30:48 +0000
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