Love

Ticklish little subject,
The telling of your love.
Would you permit yourself,
To catch it from above?

For it is very precious,
And in sacredness...a part.
That you hold so tenderly,
In the inside of your heart.

No one could of guessed it,
And only you could of been told.
About these soft and tender feelings,
That you can forever hold.

It gathers me in little bundles,
Like honey in a hive.
And in the sweetness of creation,
It keeps my hungering soul alive.

Ticklish little subject,
All of this I'm telling you.
In words that keeps repeating,
And of which I thought...you knew.


E.P. 1908 - 1989