The Madness of Love

The Warmth of the Cocoon of Love

Writer's Cramp : Write a haibun, a piece of poetry that is one part haiku and one part prose including the phrase, "the last train to London."

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The Warmth of the Cocoon of Love



Formula for love
Four grams heart-stopping romance,
One gram happenstance.

Such it was with Gregory and me. We met in a German hofbrau, while singing raucous melodies of polka-dancing beer songs. Over a heavy stein of dark, rich brew, our eyes met. He nodded his head slightly, raised one eyebrow, and messaged a question about dancing. I nodded back. Then he rose.

Dark hair, darker eyes
My mesmerizing giant
Feel my throbbing heart

We danced the night through and into the next day. And then the evenings and days all blended as the song of romance enthralled us -- castles by moonlight, boat rides on the Reine, skiing in Austria, intimate dinners and kisses, all scaldingly hot.

Love embraces you
Enfolding you inside warmth
A cocoon of change

Oh, the talks we had. We walked forest paths and city streets, lost in conversation, making up for years we’d never known each other, paving our way into the future with dreams and earnest promises. Our laughter flowed like bottled wine, and life and love was new and sparkling; we refused to count the minutes until our bottle emptied.

Moments are bubbles
Plumped fat by shared exchanges
Time-drifting away

Gregory returned to England on the last train to London. I boarded the speed train for Berlin since my flight would leave the next day. We were proud that there'd been no tears at the station --only exchanged addresses, phone numbers, e-mails, promises -- but no tears.

Sad eyes reflect thoughts
Of the anguish deep inside
Mirror of heartache

A rubber band can only stretch in both directions so far. Our hearts extended far across the seas. For months love pulled us, but then its stretch began to weaken. One day it broke.

A phone has no warmth
So severed by time and place,
Two hearts grew a part

I close my eyes, and I can still see the castles, the thick white snow of the slopes in Austria, and the steins of heavy, dark brew. I hear the laughter and Gregory's voice speaking into my heart, but it's only the song of a chapter book that I must close and put aside. Reality is my life -- the office, the ledgers, the checks and bills. Yet sometimes, I open the book, and I feel that cocoon of warmth, and I smile.

Love casts a shadow
That follows you forever
With sweet memories

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