Maybe Science has Found Love
There is an upon in which I walk —
down these arthritic city streets of wet
cobblestone with snowflakes painting
the air while frigid lovers entwined talk.
Dripping from above, then sticking aground
awhile — slipping away then in evaporate
climbing up the beams of apricitic sun
whispering thoughts of “never been found”.
I wondered, then, under candle lamps —
under off-black skies(and blue ones too!)
how the weatherman with his mustache
knew when those ice drops would enjamb.
I wandered, then, seaside — with the moon
pushing its pale light across the waves
reaching nearly to me and the candle
and pushing the sails of boats through.
It all felt like this thing we found once - us two
As rightly as the snow sticks, too does this thread.
It is unseen, but known. Why do the boats then,
stick to the sea loyally, vast in depth, in number so few.
Maybe science has found love — they won’t admit.
The atoms entangled, the gravity holding, the sun yearning.
They are winking from laboratories, passing love notes
keeping the serious facade, but nodding at what the poets writ.
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Posted Nov 10, 2025, 6:52 AM UTC