Friendship is too small a word for this which we share, as has love proven too unsound a home for us, tho its russet bricks remain– surviving even our tempests’ furious bluster.
I sometimes wonder if another language or culture has the words to define those things that English cannot, tho perhaps, it is best left undefined, and I’d link to the piece I wrote titled, ‘undefined’, but I deleted it from the blog and sent it to Crash-and-Burn Publishing House. A mistake, perhaps. Here, it might be read.
This is beautiful. Bricks are a sturdy base.
Thank you. I think one hit me in the head.. there’s a dent.
Not surprised;)
All those in betweens
I sometimes wonder if another language or culture has the words to define those things that English cannot, tho perhaps, it is best left undefined, and I’d link to the piece I wrote titled, ‘undefined’, but I deleted it from the blog and sent it to Crash-and-Burn Publishing House. A mistake, perhaps. Here, it might be read.
🙂 I remember that other poem as well.
I’ll find it and put it back.
I’m going to think of a word.
I worry that the confinement of definement might kill it.
You worry too much