Sentiments trickle in bits and pieces to dangle like soap on a rope, hanging around, just out of reach till the right words come to breathe them to life.
Precise and unexpected, at times they fit, chosen as I might choose the flawless petals of a perfect rose,
the words to be glued in that same perfection into absolutes, those hoped-to-be unblemished poems from a blemished heart and soul,
Written with the kind of sensitivity only people like you can put in a poem, or should I say, the hope-to-be poem. A perfect sentiment of the perfect poet.
loveya
Rusty
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loveya
Rusty