Sometimes I make the wrong right decision.
Always results from insecure thinking,
efforts to enact perfect precision
instead of simple faith; has me shrinking
when I should be growing. I give bouquets
of flowers, then take them away, fearing
she might have hay fever, though she displays
no sneeze, no sniffle. Sometimes I’m hearing
music when there is none; belt a love song
out to her in church or another group’s
serious meeting. How can I belong
to a race that brands disgrace in saying Oops!
and still survive? I meant well, but caused pain
yesterday; now pray I’ll find words to explain…
if she ever reads my emails again.
Roger Armbrust
February 27, 2012
