Dear Doo,

When I know that you are here, I catch myself gazing longer at the people and cars that pass...maybe just maybe I'll steal a glimpse of you. The more I thought about it, a quandary manifested. Who would I really be robbing? When I see you again, I want to take in all that is you…Within a passing glance I would surely be the victim.

8:32 PM - 3/27/2008 - post comment

A thief did pillage my familiar.

Vagabond thoughts since unbend here.

The muse's wistful eye may extract a glimpse,

Or elect to veil aforesaid ponders. 

Continuation of flame, blind to your concrete absence,

Vital to sentiments it be not. 

Manifested in words your rooted essence do I collide.--Loretta