Moving along

With flushes of a springtime burn we sat
together on the beach, and I remember that
my little sister wore a fancy hat

Her breast stripped half, for feeding, she
intensely watched the baby on her knee
and with a wink she shared her love with me

She said: being faithful is a free choice

Was this some kind of spoiler
telling love is less than pleasure?
I hardly could believe her

and quickly looked at her husband for a clue
but having no experience, a good thing too
I did not dare to ask: is it true?

Is being faithful really always a free choice?

I saw the puppies run around and play
thick castlewalls, been built and washed away
red briefs, a flapping flag on top of the day

I lay and thought about what she
had said, and asked myself when would it be
the end of love, inevitably

if being faithful is an option, a free choice

I saw relationships as a safe adventure
of looking for a sort of structure
of moving along and steering together

but each kiss of love to all eternity
sets out to travel, wants to fly and easily
seduces someone else, occasionally

ever again, being faithful is her free choice

Meebewegen  Mitbewegen