| you charmed the skeptics with your compliments wooed ladies with your inner life. jealousy can be sweet but not like Othello. at least you used to laugh at that. I'm still not a scholar you're still not my brother. but anyways, ours was not a movement like that. I stood beside you you fell behind me. what use is there going back? the garden is fallow the winter still lingers and my words have all up and dried. so just for you I'll slide on the words and let them say what they will. |