So I'd like to preface this poem of mine as being the first in which I publish to anyone. I keep most of my personal writings to myself. To the reader it may have a unique meaning relating to what is going through in your life, to me, it did the same--only long ago. Enjoy, here are the first of many-xoxoxoxo La Femme
Sweet encounters inspire respect, awe, appreciation, friendship, and ultimately love. And with each passing moment drops fill our private chalices of vulnerability.
Drops begin to fill our cups unbeknownst of the pace and fragility of the endeavor. Actions without a destination, although exhilarating, can easily become a game of roulette. Never knowing when the next drop could slay you.
Those drops quench a thirsty mind and send it reeling with imagination. Making it all the easier to keep filling without restraint.
However, some cups are not equal. And while one reaches its brink, the other may patiently sit still, ready for more.
And so I wonder.
How many more chalices to be filled? How many more chalices to be spilled?
1 comment:
Looks familiar :) I remember being touched by this the first time you let me read it--and it does the same the second time around. Love you, lady.
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