You are a child. You have hope and a future.
You like girls. They don’t always like you.
Or those that like you, you don’t like.
And you can get confused.
You become a man.
You remain confused.
Imagine you imagine you are a writer.
And you hear a line like
I want to kiss you all over and over again.
You put the song on repeat
and try to remember.
So many. Too few.
The right one
at last.
I am only seventy years old, but – before it is too late – I want to say, sincerely, thank you, Lord. Thank you.