Good Morning To My Love

T’was she who saw not what I was, but who I yet could be
and with her gentle patience then set the real me free.
For though there were things back there that left me feeling strong;
some little bits of music that were my freedom song.
But words that are left unsung are just sounds in your head
much like a book left on the shelf and never really read.
One more pointless exercise; wasting paper and the ink
‘cos words unsaid or unread can never make you think.
But all in all when I look back, it was her gentle soul
that helped to make me who I am; if ever I am whole.
So every day I thank her from the bottom of my heart
For showing me just who I am and where I now should start.

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About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri
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