He asks the real questions
wants my truth
Nora warms my lap and purrs,
mirrors my heart,
And when he asks if I’m afraid of him
I lie and say no.
How could I not be afraid of a soul who
refills that creative void that had been
quietly chipping away at me?
What sort of fool wouldn’t fear
someone who makes them feel again,
when that same emotion could
rip
…..you
………..apart.
Mr. Walker
Write Then & There 