There was a mime who fell in love with a woman,
but he could not tell her, because he was sworn
to the silence of the quiet community, so then
he tried to give her flowers,
to make up for the loss sense of sound.
He could flatter her with smell, all the hours
of the day.
But she would not smell them.
He tried painting her a beautiful picture,
to enable her eyes to dance.
But she would not see it.
He even knitted her a scarf for the winter.
Something she could feel,
to show her how he felt when he looked at her;
which was all fuzzy inside.
But she would not accept his feelings,
even though she was cold.
Even though it was her favorite color.
And
Eventually
He gave up.
He had tried SO HARD!
No matter what he did, he could not please her.
And
then
She was walking down the street and she heard it.
Heard soft crying from behind some waylaid old
cardboard boxes.
The mime felt a hand on his shoulder.
He smelt the most beautiful lilac perfume.
He turned and beheld the loveliest of faces,
he felt his cheeks turning red,
mirroring her rosie ones from the cold.
And finally he heard her voice,
so soft like the knitted scarf
he had labored over.
"All I wanted was to hear
you say what what you felt,
to tell me I'm loved."
she whispered.
"My darling,
you are loved."
he spoke aloud.
And
then
he
was
free.
That day he shed his black and white stripes;
for he was no longer a prisoner.
He was set free from the confines of silence;
and sang out his melody of love unto her
every day after, until the end of time.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 9:23 PM UTC
There was a mime who fell in love with a woman,
but he could not tell her, because he was sworn
to the silence of the quiet community, so then
he tried to give her flowers,
to make up for the loss sense of sound.
He could flatter her with smell, all the hours
of the day.
But she would not smell them.
He tried painting her a beautiful picture,
to enable her eyes to dance.
But she would not see it.
He even knitted her a scarf for the winter.
Something she could feel,
to show her how he felt when he looked at her;
which was all fuzzy inside.
But she would not accept his feelings,
even though she was cold.
Even though it was her favorite color.
And
Eventually
He gave up.
He had tried SO HARD!
No matter what he did, he could not please her.
And
then
She was walking down the street and she heard it.
Heard soft crying from behind some waylaid old
cardboard boxes.
The mime felt a hand on his shoulder.
He smelt the most beautiful lilac perfume.
He turned and beheld the loveliest of faces,
he felt his cheeks turning red,
mirroring her rosie ones from the cold.
And finally he heard her voice,
so soft like the knitted scarf
he had labored over.
"All I wanted was to hear
you say what what you felt,
to tell me I'm loved."
she whispered.
"My darling,
you are loved."
he spoke aloud.
And
then
he
was
free.
That day he shed his black and white stripes;
for he was no longer a prisoner.
He was set free from the confines of silence;
and sang out his melody of love unto her
every day after, until the end of time.
Somewhat based off of one of the poems in the movie, "My Girl." I love the thought of being in touch with our senses.
