You can not read my mind
Thank the gods that is so.
Yet oftentimes I think love would be simpler
If my mind, picturing each tableau,
Were open like a book or set
Upon a stage with words of purest verse,
Who can say, if such love
Might be best--or worse?
For you would know each thought,
Each discrepancy, and every flaw
In my unreasoning, guileless mind
And cease to hold our love in awe.
Love, a perfect love, is wrought
When two can love, yet still
Be of two minds, two souls, two tongues
And yet be of one will.
Susan J. Skinner
June 9, 1962
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