Thursday, April 28, 2011

more than you know.



Maybe you'll never notice.
Because you are fireworks, and I am pale skies.
And you are trumpets and claxons, while I am a single harp string.
And I have shy eyes and quiet hands,
   and where you are the chorus and the thunder of waves,
      I am only a breeze ruffling the grass in the faint and milky dawn.
but
I love you
more than you know.











From my new obsession.

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