A little (bad) poem I wrote about meeting a new girl who I happen to be quite fond of.

Eyes whisper the words left unsaid
for we don't need to hear them.
We sit on stools in our tiny room
but they can't help but listen.

To our delvings in songs of love and want.
Musings of our lives.

Story telling of a darker time.
Feelings you left behind.

Why keep them? When there's so much more to live.
Laughing at the immature, but wishing we were them.
So we wouldn't feel the self doubt we do
When we walk with fellow men.

But still they came, and saw, and questioned.
You didn't seem too worried.
Perhaps you're hiding what you truly feel,
But then i'm doing the same.

The backdrop falls to those hanging trees that I love so much
Down by the riverside on our homebound journey.
Sway in the wind but never move.
Continuity is the spice of life.

Without it how would these times appear?
Where you take the risk to be seen by your peers
For who you are and what you do.
Oh, the ways that I look up to you.

To sing that note without fear of dissonant applause.
To hope that you have struck a chord.
To do the things you do so readily.
To make this fire grow so steadily.

One day we'll make our own
Like that one outside your house.
Hide away in the woods so close
For fear of burning out.

Can you take the heat?