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°·«««Letters»»»·°
·° ¤ First


I could I suppose, write of things bright.
I tend though, to stick to darkness and blight.
I think its only women that can get me write of light.
The strange is that alone, I seem almost incapable of flight.
Inspiration is the key!
I look about for that which wakes the bright in me.
I know its always there.
But I must have a catalyst with whom the light to share.
But when I have none about to show it to?
Damned if I really care.

So yes, you see.
You have a purpose.
Especially to fools such as me.
You manage to quicken my mind.
With thoughts and words, similiar to mine.
And I find that about life a little more I care.

Its possible I'm really selfish.
That any woman that showed interest might serve this purpose.
I'm not certain how I'd put it to a test.
Or even if to do so would be for the best.
How many women might I show such,
in which I had at least some interest?
There are a few that have caught my attention, true.

Happy at the least,
that guided by some power,
I have met you,
and so, feel blessed.
So, pleased am I to be thy friend.
I'll not play games with such curses as, "Till the bitter end!".
None can know what twists the fates might send.
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