The little Thing

Perhaps it’s a little thing

That thing that means the most

Just tender

To the touch

You could lend to me so easily

 

But you’re not here,

 or there,

You’re not willing

It’s not that you cannot

 

But maybe just too scary

So I go on,

Dancing down the lane,

Wishing you could take my hand

While you are standing next to me

But

You

Will

Not.

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