My second post opens up a deeper, more vulnerable side of me.
So please, respect it.
I've decided to post a poem on here. I like it, and hopefully you will too.
The first I wrote last year, when I was searching for something; love.
What is Feeling?
22 May, 2011.
What is feeling?
Is it the tingle down my spine as an incredible musician plays?
The gentle touch of a man's fingers on my face?
It is the cool kiss of a zephyr present on an Autumn day?
Or the grin found spreading while gazing out to stars in space?
Is it joy, is it hatred,
confusion, is it love?
Or perhaps the small experience
graciously given from our Lord above?
Is it love. Is it love?
If we ask 'What is feeling?' then what are we to say of love?
Such emotion should be treasured, not treated with a push or a shove.
One word has so much meaning,
how dare we let that be?
One word I use for people, God,
watermelon, and the sea.
If love means something different to every single person,
why try to define it, wouldn't, then, my perplexion only worsen?
If love could speak,
I believe what she would say,
Is, "Let it be Laura. Give it time.
I will meet with you one day."
With grace and peace,