there is a little love
it’s kept secret
and in the dark
lest it be found out
and stolen away

there is a little love
that cannot grow
nor can it thrive
for lack of fresh air
and the golden light of day

so it is buried
like coins beneath the floor
hidden from prying eyes
to ward off poisons
like jealousy and decay

it is but a thing of youth
naive and senseless passion
a clinging in black corners
a yearning beneath balconies
where the soul might stray

buried in jars of clay
changing the world to gray
fermenting hearts astray
with only the small fee
of loss and death to pay.