OLD POEM OUT OF THE RUST BELT

LOVE –

the word alone
is of pure fascination,
as it digs like nails
into my mind endlessly.
as the heart reacts,
i begin to build
a framework for windows
with somethin from the inside to view.

i must let my love
walk the roads
of growin pains
to gain new insights
to develop my stride
along the way.

i have to be like a hitchhiker,
and know that not everybody
will pick me up on the first go around.
this thumb –
more like a bruised thumb,
is like a peddler
where my heart can show true love.

One response to “OLD POEM OUT OF THE RUST BELT

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