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