he forgets, sometimes. probably because guys are dumb that way.
he forgets that what he needs is here, has been here all along. he wanders through the world wishing, worried, woeful, wintered with the white snow of discontent. (hah, did you get that shakespeare thing there? "snow is the winterer of our discontent?" sorry to interrupt and point that out. i get kinda self-conscious when the whole poetry vibe gets going in me, and i guess i just have to cut in with a joke or people will think i'm all full of myself. now where the hell was i?)
remembering. he does it sooner or later. he looks around at all those empty "w" words he's surrounded himself with, and he stops and it comes back to him.
and then he comes back to me, my lost little lamb (you know, sheepish?) ... and he finds everything that he needs.
in my arms.
goodnight, peeps. my man needs me.
a poem for my studly love hunk!
1 year ago