Innocent yet no one feels more guilty.
The wisdom of the ancients but full of naivety.
Beautiful beyond belief but marked by self doubt.
Sweet but sour like a luscious stout.
You look for that which you should be listening for.
You reach out for that for which you should be looking to your inner core.
Uphill and slippery,
Not given much to chivalry.
Assuredly uncertain, always questioning,
Yet still sure as a reckoning.
Do you walk or just sit around?
Do you talk or just stand your ground?
Just like the aftermath of a wine spill,
Somehow just never able to chill.
In my arms or in my heart,
Still held dearly though so far apart.
There’s a lot to put on one page
And this is just the first stage.
