My confidence is as delicate as a flower,
Easily bruised, nerves easily opened.
Please speak tenderly to me,
Quietly, as true love is spoken;
For I cannot take too much,
Not at the moment anyway.
Maybe later when I've rested some,
My leaves are angled to the sun,
And if you my fellow traveler will come
And spend some time with me,
That is enough for now;
And before the day has gone
Maybe we can speak some more;
Your sensitivity refreshing me:
For weak things need caring for. |
