Furtive writing without a care in the world of how it is received
A kite without no string
Knowing, for what it is, it will be believed,
And praying that one Soul will sing
Hours spent scratching out
As if my thoughts needed to wrestle with what I know
And I how I grow
And, like a child's first meal,
With nothing left to conceal,
I would serve it up
And leave it be
For one, in her solitary
Never has there been a better selfish purpose
Working on a rhyme
Hoping that I would get the Girl
And knowing she was mine
Final draft complete, tri-folded
I'd walk it up the darkened streets
A stroll through sleeping neighborhoods
When the trees were quiet and the air was still
And leave it in Her windowsill
There is no purer feeling
There is no greater good
Than to share what it is that your feeling
And to believe that it's understood
Fav.... the thought and sentiment.
Brings to mind a sermon of years ago... When you pray, believe your prayers are heard.