Poetry Thursday: More I Cannot Wish You

love sculpture

I am imagining
you a song:

it is the song of your dreams
if your dream
is to hear
Frank Loesser's
"More I Cannot Wish You"
sung by 
the perfect Irish baritone,
breaking here and there in places
because he's seen and heard it all,
or a virginal chorus
of earnest high school voices,
painfully on pitch
because they have seen none of it yet
but are impatient to.

Either way
I wish you the boon
of that gentle song,
all but forgotten
for want of dazzle
in the midst of a show
that crackled with it,
but the tune that carries
sweet truth the furthest:
that love is what matters most
even when
it is the hardest thing
to believe in.

So yea, though we swoon to drunken Sarah Brown
and her dream of bells,
and nod along with Adelaide's lament of fidelity
and cross our fingers for Sky Masterson and his sevens, 
and tap our feet as Nicely-Nicely
finds his personal Jesus,
we'd do well enough
to wish each other love
in all its shapes and guises,
and mostly,
to it showing up


Image by jmscottIMD via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.