Tuesday, October 14, 2008

I found an old poem tucked away in a book I had forgotten. It was written, presumably for a gentleman I was particularly smitten with (or perhaps I was exercising my literary penmanship, I don't quite recall). The constant "first dates" (and no more thereafter) that New York life is prone to can be quite disheartening. But when you find that someone you connect with...


Do not presume to know me,
I am a mere illusion.
Bright colours
in the sky.
Escaping visions
on a dark night.
of dreams.
You stand
And I try
to quell,
what you have awaken in me.
The weeping that comes
not from the eyes,
but from the soul.

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