For holidays, and hidden ways, For shorter goes and longer stays, For time reflecting only breath, For flowers named Elizabeth, For every moment felt in joy, Adventure spent, and girl-meets-boy, With gratitude we lift and know How good things are, when they Are so
Behind these words, there is a me; I’ve hidden him for years —- I’ve been afraid of God-knows-what, And lived within those fears. I’ve tried to find the heart’s extremes From safe within the middle; I’ve reached for objectivity, But in this life, there’s little. For who and what I am determines How I think … Continue reading "Behind These Words"
To take stock of what she had.
I like so many things...
I could never repay her.
Just like most men. In some ways.