Forgetful.

The rising words are pushed downwards, spiral dancing away from insecurities.

Watching my little creatures the jealousy babies, barking for attention.

Covered ear patting blindly only to shut out the sound invasive.

Trying in vain to be understood when the moment had passed, elusive explanation lost to raw emotional energy.

My track record for recollection is spotty, with too many gaps to fill in when I was paying more attention to the way your eyes would glisten.

Two curves sitiing on the comfortable padded chair, the smell of morning.

Always just as important to listen, to interpret correctly, to travelling upward to a positive approach.

Farewell to reproach and my precision must be as sharp as my wit.

Hello W, S.