The Power of Antiques

I was sifting through some old pages.

August 19th, 2008

Here we go again. Down the rabbit hole.

You fell before, you've fallen again.

Alice, how many times are you going to get your hopes up?

That white rabbit is trouble.

You were so apprehensive when you first laid eyes upon those lanky ears.

Curious? Yes.

But oh so anxious.

You can't describe it.

The rabbit just popped out of the brush.

Usually you venture in first.

It bounds away, you stay where you are.

Brimming, grinning

Nothing.

Swept up too fast

no time

no excuses

you know what you like Miss Alice

I never write about my past.

Everything I write tends to concern my immediate surroundings.

Given the clarity of hindsight, creatively expressing old events, old feelings, past people...

can be very rewarding.

The distance from a situation has much offer in terms of expressing yourself.

Time perfects the emotions once felt.

Enables you to truly know them.

Perhaps I will try to write more about him, or the other him.

It's been so long.

I could surely come up with some interesting metaphors to describe the spells I was under.

But you... You will make the lines of my poems long

elegant

graceful

and blissful.

I can't wait to write about you.