What Falls Between

Love is an old pair of shoes

Sitting in the corner.

Laces untied, unused for years now,

Because they've become too small

For older feet;

Yet still shined to perfection

Every morning.

Love is the early morning risers

Whose hands held tight

Hold each other up

Even when the very line they walk

Becomes too thin

To navigate alone.

Love is what draws near

The darkest and the light

And allows a sliver

Of messy, ugly, mindless,

Twisting, turning

Beautiful Gray,

To fall between.




-Jenna Mosier