How can we be sure of anything
the tide changes.
The wind that made the grain wave gently yesterday
blows down the trees tomorrow.
And the sea sends sailors chrashing on the rocks,
as easily as it guides them safely home.
I love the sea
but it doesn't make me less afraid of it
I love you
but I'm not always sure of what you are
and how you feel.
I'd like to crawl behind your eyes
and see me the way you do
or climb through your mouth
and sit on every word that comes up through your
throat.
Maybe I could be sure then
maybe I could know
as it is - I hide beneath your frowns
or worry when you laugh too loud.
Always sure a storm is rising
Rod McKuen: Listen to the warm
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