by Rebecca Walkins Randle
on December twenty-eighth.
Once again, you have perplexed me,
I'm losing track of faith.
I honestly don't know,
where I really stand with you.
Tell me, do you ever wonder
how I'm feeling, too?
My heart and soul are naked now
and though I try to shield them;
you realize your words have strength
and powerfully, you wield them!
To peek inside your head,
there is no price I wouldn't pay.
To glimpse your strategies at work...
watch your thoughts at play.
All this time I should have known,
but my feelings haven't died, they've grown
--from a molehill to a mountain--
--from a trickle to a fountain--
I know that it might be too late,
I should end this argument with fate.
But this date, I must remember--
the twenty-eighth day of December.