Is it madness to write her a letter
Is my gladness, at the core or superficial
Am I fickle to trickle down my thoughts
Would it be better, left to someone special
The sadness and the longing have
Made way for songs of joy and loving
Undoing the reticence of my pen
I sent out freely my words, to many
Without a penny to my name
I regained an eye for beauty
The tutored became the tutor
The suitor thus happy with his suit
The fruits of labour saved her; made her
Resilient to impediments of single parenthood
She stood in liquid lucidity, independent
Of the love, I was waving behind her door
This is a poem from Vagaries:
Love of The Key to Room 149
