These are not my words, thought I wish I had written them:
“You ask
if I will write a poem
I could,
I suppose
write the most
splendiferous
one of all
but not
right
now
not when
your hands
are brewing
warm
cinnamon tea
across my skin
not when I’m
trying to imagine
what might happen
if you began
flowering
kisses
upon
me
My dear,
how can
I write
a poem
when I’m already
inside one?”
― Sanober Khan, A Thousand Flamingos
Sigh.... Until next time...
Anne