I Love You

the thunder booms,
sending everyone inside;

the dog's tail droops,
and his face shows concern;

I work at my desk,
trying to be funny, not forced;

later, sitting in the car,
this reflection comes to me,
and I get out a piece of paper,
fold it into quarters,
and pull out my pen;

the paper stares at me,
mockingly, as the pen refuses to move;

then, as the rain intensifies,
the words begin to come to me,
and I see the pen
slowly move across the page,
line by line, until I finally write:

I Love You.

April 6, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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