love’s loose ends: the stage (a metaphoric reflection)

Source. Pexels. Cottonbro, Photography

by LJ Frank

on occasion

her gaze was faraway,

mystical in distance and depth

and then I noticed

on one particular afternoon,

standing on a great lake shore

of raw sienna hues

the waves’ fingers lingered –

on the endless particles of sand

 amid autumn’s falling leaves

floating in the air

she looked over the blue expanse –

and then towards me

her eyes watered as if remembering –

the roles she had played,

a shy cast upon her face

while alone

revealed a transformation –

 when she played

her part on stage

mostly off main street

here and there

her persona

was distinct and authentic,

though not fitting in

to any existing paradigm

of work or other shaping,

her inner glow

expressed a pureness –

and presence of the soul

and yet

she felt at times –


like a piece of string 

across life’s intersections

becoming a dangling thread

from some worn cloth,

and still

a song played endlessly –

in her heart,

perhaps it gave her warmth –

under an evening chill

as she caressed a thought –

in my arms

and around her memory

while she waited

for her entrance

on stage that night

to share her uncertainty   

as if to tidy things up

or perhaps it was –

something else altogether,

the strings and threads

of existence

at times appeared unattached,

they seemed to just be –

like the loose ends in life

with enigmatic meanings,

except for those she birthed –

 both in pleasure and angst

and there were the moments –


in which she found her smile –

while knowing deep within

she was loved –

for just being.