written at Montreat College in mid 90s

untitled

If we were children,
too free to run from love,
in fields too wide to
hold doubt,
If we never had learned
dislike, or fear...
If we could see
through the eyes
of blind emotion,
would you cry
in the shape
of a flower?
Tears too wet for
sadness...
Inside...Beneath
the grey clouds of
lattice hurt,
we are still young.
Breathing souls,
fast like deer
and all there is
is not to
try.

-RTS