Dear Jane,
I wish I could whip you up
The brightest bouquet of splendid things
The best parts of spring
The tiny tendrils of magic
The breath of life God gave us all
The atoms that bounced off into space
Back into our atmosphere
I want to give it to you
Your yellow line is actually golden, blossomed into gleaming dreams
And I know our strings are tightly knotted
I will package up moments of quiet splendor
Like a perfect eve at a sleepy pond
Where the whippoorwill cries
It’s solemn tune
And give it all to you
Because you are my lady,
You are soft and elegant and beautiful
And I know you deserve it all,
Even if it’s not with me.
Love,
Edward
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Melissa Ingoldsby and writers in Poets and other communities.
Dear Jane
Dear Jane, How is everything, rather, how is one of the things we have discussed? I think that saying how are you or a broad question like that might be a huge answer. I just realize it’s been so long since we’ve been able to actually truly sit down and really converse back and forth. That makes me terribly sad.
By Melissa Ingoldsby3 years ago in Poets
Smart phones, Humans and Aliens.
WARNING. I will be tapping into one of your favorite creative tensions: The absurdity of humans worshipping their glowing rectangles as if they were tiny oracles. There’s something deliciously poetic about that contradiction, and it lends itself beautifully to an instructive proviso.
By Novel Allen6 days ago in Poets
Autonomy Is The Real Privilege
Good morning, freedom-seekers! Today we’re gonna be looking at autonomy. A strange word, I know; one many would probably look at blankly and run away from on sight. We’re gonna figure out what it actually means, consider how it’s achieved, and decipher just how deeply most of us are tangled up in dependence without realising it.
By That ‘Freedom’ Guy3 days ago in Humans
Comments (1)
Nice! Thank you.💕