Slivers of unintended new experiences
Stuck painlessly into our feet
Moving along the same splintered wooden dock
We both have trodded before
Too safely to have carried any scar tissue
But now our earth touchers resemble
Porcupines that when touched
Refuse to release our quills
But offer a story or two to remember we've been here before instead
Of losing the memories we've gained.
And when we finally pick the wood out
it fashions into a fence gate that opens up to
New stories new experiences
New feelings new apprehensions
Just new
New looks on a new face wrapped in gift wrap
So I have to make it Christmas to open them up
without buying anything but just by giving the gift of presence as presents.
And anything more is another present under the tree
It's nice to know that sometimes when you plant trust
It grows into honesty
Honestly it's refreshing
It's a test of moral strength and how far you can carry the torch.
In the Olympic sport of courting