Poetry of a Conlanger

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

An Outlaying Confession

The vault is two covers,
The lock just a string.

The jewels?
Mostly of you,
A new ruby, sapphire, or emerald is
Added each day
To my glowing, hopeful collection,
Which lies between the covers
Of a nondescript book-my journal.
If you were to get ahold of it
And read,
Would you be pleasantly surprised,
Or not?
Would you fling your arms around me and
Agree with my feelings?
Since you want to know,
I’ll tell you myself; no hidden emissary.
You’re my shining spark of hope.


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