“I will permit no man to narrow and degrade my soul by making me hate him.” ~Booker T. Washington, American educator, author, and Presidential advisor
I’ve noticed something of late that disturbs me greatly.
So much so that I’ve got to write about it.
When I meet your stormy glare, I shudder.
Blue skies darkened by muddy cumulonimbus.
Was it something I said?
Who can be sunny forever?
That faint twitch in your lip,
Feet cemented to the floor.
Can’t you talk without your hands?
Careless words better left unsaid.
A book takes flight,
A door slams tight.
Then, stony silence.
One isn’t always the loneliest number, you know.