Tickled pink by your suggestion,
the way you speak,
crisply; wires crossing.

Sensations creep from ground,
roots grapple with personality;
always smiling.

I think of you softly,
I think of you hardly,
I think of you smiling,
I think of you crying.

Weeping like a willow,
I'm growing,
I send down the lines of engagement,
you swing from my branches...
hurling to and fro...
both smiling...
both laughing...

let these be the memories,
that seed the future...

let these be the memories,
that allow us to grow.


http://www.robross.ca