Sometimes, I can't keep up. With the world and how quickly it turns on its axis and how soon red lights become green. Social media tweets when I am romance novels in the hidden corner of forgotten bookstores. I am slow. So slow. And a delicate palette is needed for what I bring.
I'm a southern song strummed out on an untuned guitar sitting on your lap on a rain wet porch.
I am going back to bed on Saturday just to wallow in the sun warmed sheets.
I am waffles on Sunday when there isn't time to make them and the extra cup of coffee on Monday. Because there is less time.
I am the breath sucked in between your teeth when you are in awe.
I am patience when patience is used up.
I am a roll of thunder so far off and smell of lightening anticipation.
I halt the clock on the wall just to put time in its place.
I am the sigh that comes after the first kiss.
I can't keep up with with this world. And it's spin and the feverish pace that love is set to. Slow down. Take time in your hands. And feel the sand drip between your fingers. Don't you want love that works more like a pocket watch barely wound? Don't you want to lengthen the moments between the words,
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