I will not stop looking for things that look like love no matter how many I find, a wet paint brush, a flat stone to skim across water. We take everything in our hearts everywhere. If, in death, our heart energy becomes clouds, let mine shade Libya, rain in Australia, glow in South Africa - no love will make better skies than mine - check my radiance. In Portugal, I met a woman on a mountain, she told me she only looked in one place for love her eyes used to be prisoners in her face, she told me to say love every time I find it burning, and keep its light turning my eyes in new directions, so writing home means writing to new addresses. I met a waitress in Sweden, She was 29 and could not say 30 in English, or any other language. She poured me coffee with a smile that said I live in the best way, and I loved her because she loves the small things I love about myself. I sat on a hill next to the Indian Ocean with a fisherman in Cape Town, we couldn’t keep the hook off our talking. I never trusted anyone who made love look like fishing, but when the sun set I loved him before I saw it again. Life gets better every year because of what I collect. I will love all my summers before they burn out, by winter I will still dream out my heart. No matter how far the cold reaches into our bones as long as we’re alive we will still exist inside of so much magic.
For Things That Look Like Love by Raymond Antrobus http://raymondantrobus.blogspot.co.uk/2012/07/for-things-that-look-like-love-poem.html