I should be writing a love poem,
a sonnet or an ode to affection.
I can not write about a rent of sorrow.
So I'll light a cigarette
because I don't want the drink
and I'll eat something
because I shouldn't smoke
and I'll deny that vent
calling, "Sit with me. Feel me."
"What? You too?" began a fusion,
a harmony in healing
and a lesson on love,
and the value of vulnerability,
and how simply being is enough,
and if I am present
when incumbent upon me to share me
this.... this love will fill the days
when there's little joy in life.
"Sit with me. Feel me."
Your beauty without vanity
made a difference, Terry Coates.
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