What see you love when you look at me? What drives your heart to stay?
I am flawed by life’s experience. More than I was, yet less than I could be, I have put up hard resistance ‘gainst the notion of true love and bitter fought for freedom for longer than I can say. It cannot be youth and beauty, for I am beset by age. My countenance is degraded by the ravages of time and I have long discarded notions that time can be denied. This form that stands before you is the definition of improvement belied.
What hear you love when I speak to you? What wills your ear to hear?
I am too in love with love of words and too fond of my own voice. For years I spoke to no one and the legacy it seems, is to forget that I’m in company and spread confusion in my wake. I am not always blessed by Queens true English and slide often into slang. My local colloquial is not easy to understand and when I do adopt true English I slip into business speak, or fly off on a literary diatribe as If I swallowed a dictionary.