I canít sit still,
Looking at words
Iím not happy to see.
Flying is the answer
As I jump to the
But I might not
Make it
To the nearest tree,
So I freeze.
Victim of circumstance,
Again and again.
I try to read her mind;
Coming up blank
Is my second
Her move,
I say.
I donít want to bother
If sheís not glad to
Hear my voice.
Prayers are probably
In order.
I just think too much
Thatís all.
Think of me,

rjw, 5/12/88

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