Teething Brain [sonnet]
I know I said I give my all to you
(and you said I am yours and you are mine)
but what I said was not completely true;
for one square centimetre I decline
to send across the empty frozen waste
which fills the space between my shape and yours
and hope it doesn’t leave an aftertaste
of unfulfilled and misplaced metaphors.
The reticence you sense within my heart
(a temporary teething state of brain)
is so I will adjust to taking part
in soaring altitudes without the pain.
I never flew this high or far before;
so please forgive me while we both explore.
© 2012, Alan Morrison
The Naked Troubadour 