late harvest

I learned late to unfurl my heart towards the sun of love

To wait patiently for the gentle showers of rain to fall
and to hear my name when another called
To drink with no pause for breath, until quenched
and give myself leave to fail

I learned late that fear is not armour against sorrow
And that sorrow is not so cruel as to kill; and not so kind as to do so neither

I learned late that a fragment of the heart is only necessary to live
but that the whole is needed to love
that the beauty of dawn and dusk may yet be enough
to make the scorching heat of noon
and the frigid freeze of midnight
worthwhile

I learned late that I may be less than I wish, but am more than I need