On 5/2/2017 I wrote:

Roses are red
Violets are blue
But no flower
Outshines you
Veiled, unveiled
Idle, then promising
Hurry, hurry before it slips away.
I am to be tortured, if that is my lot,
Then bring it on.

For fear is not the greatest threat,
But the stopping of your breath.
I’m hot
I’m on fire
My blood is burning with desire.

My mortal existence is in danger of exploding.
How can it be contained?

Sleep, sleep but what
Awaits me in my dreams?
Alas, is that just the murmur of the wind?
Or the jest of the cruel fates?
I look, but where?
To bring such joy, how can I sleep:
But if I don’t, how will I be strong enough to find you?

And there lies the answer, for sure, I must be dreaming.
Sleep typing, yes?
There would be no superman if there wasn’t someone worth saving.
But you are not needing saving.
Any more than I do.

Are you a damsel or superwoman?
Please, say no more.  Your fingers are driving me crazy.

So, the new woman, let’s call her “Ell”, is finding my budding writing entertaining and encouraging me to experiment. She is an elementary/special ed teacher which explains her interest in me. I am trying out my new wings. (Oh, btw, I do find some of this embarrassing as I look back on it, but I owe it to my audience to be brave.)

One thought on “History#3”

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