i find myself full of all sorts of questions to ask you where you went to school what your middle name is how you take your coffee but i’m far too shy i was educated by the world a fragrant mixture of myrrh and spices black as a moonless midnight what kind of tree are…
i find myself full of all sorts of questions to ask you
where you went to school
what your middle name is
how you take your coffee
but i’m far too shy
i was educated by the world
a fragrant mixture of myrrh and spices
black as a moonless midnight
what kind of tree are you
what will happen when you die
do you love God above all
i’m dying to ask
a stubby live oak
in heaven for eternity
an emancipated captive of joy
in my shyness all i can give is a response
so won’t you ask something?
Oh yeah, I want to ask you so many things… ;)
*kidding* Nice write, it popped out so many thoughts inside me!
You are a wonderful writer. You remind me much of Emily Dickinson. Especially in this post where you have a fragile and coy surface that is, unknowingly to anyone but you and your readers, just a subtle inch from bursting. You share a feeling of uncertainty that first drew me to Dickinson. Anyway, I am a fan. Good work.
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