An Amendment to Previous Contemplations

Look at this fool Who writes of not knowing love And yet here she stands Heart in her throat She fears it's temporary; Litter skipping across asphalt On a windy day How it's always been Look at this girl's farce As she claims "Not I! My head is too filled with Numbers and ruined paint And things much too cumbersome To carry such a heavy load!" But oh, oh that face is Something special Look how it ruins her even now And how blind it is To her stumble Whatever it is She feels her pulse in her Very fingers Just wondering what it is Look at this silly young thing Always blind sided When she's made up her mind

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