A little piece for my Paul
Huffed and puffed and blew my house down, me away. A birthday lamb in wolf's clothing. A little boy blue.
His taste buds tingle with words - verbs to the back, adjectives on either side. His fingers tremble music and, in private, his heart draws nostalgia.
I put a meter in his chest, where no one can see. It flutters constantly, measuring the world, himself, me. I'm the only one who knows how it works. It hasn't yet achieved heaviosity, but one day it will.
His taste buds tingle with words - verbs to the back, adjectives on either side. His fingers tremble music and, in private, his heart draws nostalgia.
I put a meter in his chest, where no one can see. It flutters constantly, measuring the world, himself, me. I'm the only one who knows how it works. It hasn't yet achieved heaviosity, but one day it will.
5 Comments:
Wow. I'm moved. Thank you sweetheart.
:)
kinda feel wrong commenting, but I do like to visit, and I really enjoy what you write.
Lucky Paul :)
Are you Shannon from UEA?
If you mean Shannon from UEA as in the Yank year abroad girl who came back to stay - yes! Are you the 'welsh liz'? Elizabeth Owens from Swansea? If so, email me at shannonforbush@gmail.com!
I am indeed. Sent you a lengthy email (a touch of verbal diarrhoea I'm afraid...). Hope to hear from you soon!
Loving your work by the way.
Post a Comment
<< Home