Wood shavings fall on the dusty floor,

“Say yes or no, it is darkness to say more.”

With a metal blade, pressing into soft wood,

“Explaining a lie, over and over does no good.”

I leave the wood shop, to the street made of stones,

“Do you love me?” I ache for you, from my heart to my bones!”

Her long brown hair, falls across her troubled smirk,

“I have a lot of love for you. Maybe that will work?”

The staccato’ed bite of a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ loses its tongue,

A storm of words swirls, like a broken bell being rung.

How do we find the truth, in answers that are pure?

A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ could very well be the cure.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert