eye cannot tell her yet
eye cannot tell her yet eye still want her to knoe
the way she feels inside of me the way eye feel
when she just chats with me
the taking of life for granted that everybody
does to one another in the day to day
activities they call a life
eye cannot tell her yet eye still want her to knoe
there is no where eye could ever go to find escape
even iff eye wanted to become a flowing
fountain on a rill or shapley hamhocks hangging
on there hooks on there hooks
or even twenty brooks all converging in a pool
with moss and flowers hangging gardens
and fallacies often quoted in a poem
worth more to me than air to breathe
eye cannot tell her yet eye still want her to knoe
