Saturday, December 10, 2011


Sentiment comes easy
The older I get seems
Tears are continually
Hovering hanging on
Every word spilling forth
At the slightest goading
Constantly vexing my
Reserve the more I hold
Back the more my face
Gives the game away
Contorting & twisting
As if trying to contain a
Sneeze & what good
Would ever come of
That might as well let
Them come did I learn
Nothing as a child


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