Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history

My title is a quote from Plato, but it still rings true for me. When I can’t sleep I seem to end up online or I write, in this case I wrote. I do find myself writing hopelessly sentimental stuff often like last night. Shame I will not get to share it with the person I want really but I guess that is what happens sometimes. I am aware that my writing often takes the form of poems, and that also I used to do that a lot more than I do now, maybe it is not too late to post some of them now. And rather than be obvious I will post a different picture than rather fetching picture I took of the person in question.

Beautiful
I am not allowed to tell you are beautiful,
However much I wish to do so.

I’ve captured you with my camera more than once,
And yet I don’t always know how to show you, What I see.
Your beauty can be seen from the inside out,
It is radiant from your warmth in life and it in you.

I am not allowed to tell you are beautiful,
However much I wish to do so.

If this was a song you would bock your ears,
And if I spoke it to you, you would do the same,
You sometimes forget that those who know you best,
Remember to tell you your beautiful too.

I am not allowed to tell you are beautiful,
However much I wish you would let me.

HF 11/8/15

Picture taken in Italy of flowers

I love this picture, even if I am not brave enough to use the portrait of the person I am thinking about.

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