Monday, April 25, 2005

The Theory of Relativity

I'm sorry that you can't read my handwritting.

That you think I don't listen.

I'm sorry that I smile too much and twiddle my hair.

That maybe you think I'm more trouble than I'm worth.

I'm sorry I can't pretend to be less than who I am.

That I say what I mean and knock you off balance.

I'm sorry that you think I'm stealing your sunshine,

Like a vine of over-ripe tomatos.

I'm sorry I never have learned the art of neglect.

That I love you all the time, even when you're not looking.

I'm sorry that I'm not a good conversationalist.

That I have never read Carl Segan.

I'm sorry that my silences are not profound.

That I am not like you.




I'm just a simple Irish girl,
and for that,
I am not sorry.

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