Disclaimer: I know very little about science. If this is incorrect, I apologize to all you physics majors out there. Grade eleven physics was a couple years ago.
…not that many physics majors read my poetry blog, but still.
What I know of love
Can fit on the tip of a needle;
Impossibly small, yet
Consider the sheer number of
Particles stretched out
Whirling in time with the universe,
Clustered as the tip of that needle-
After all, I suppose knowing
What is not love does count,
Like knowing that most of
An electron cloud is empty space;
The only problem is predicting
Where that sought-after thing will be.
© Bridget Noonan, 2011.
So again, if it’s wrong, please educate me? I like learning new things.