It was Prosery Valentine Monday yesterday on dVerse, hosted by the lovely Björn Rudberg. I chose to wait until today because I wanted to try to capture the Snow Moon as close to full as possible – which is technically tomorrow… and ended up not liking what I took today so took my phone version from yesterday. Sigh. Okay, okay! I am posting today possibly because my words would not unjumble in a manner acceptable by moi though I kept trying until past 10:30 p.m., an hour past the time I was planning on hitting the hay. This writing thing can be rather fiddly, if you ask me. The phrase we must use comes from a poem by Carol Ann Duffy, entitled Valentine, which I chose to not read ahead of time – further to Björn’s suggestion. Good thing, too, now that I have! The phrase we must use in a 144-word prose, not poetry, is: It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. Isn’t that a lovely phrase? Thought it would be easy-peasy to insert. Ahem.
What is true love? Do we not all have our own definition of what is right for us?
There are those who seek the the big bang and bright lights of fireworks, believing them as true signs of love and romance. They are always in love with someone new and it’s out there for all to see. They know it is ephemeral and that is what they want, believing it is what makes them feel alive.
Not for us. How to describe our love? It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It shines brightly beneath its discreet packaging. None but the most perspicacious know of its contents and this is by our choice. It’s not that we have anything to hide in shame. It is an attempt to keep it ours. Our sacred union with it’s share of excitement and quiet and real.