friends through distance


Every time I see you I become less honest.

With so much life between one visit and the next,

Had I not rather flatter, than fluster you with candour?

No, I refuse.

I go for less polite and slightly grating,

And speak my mind uncensored, as before.

More to the point than pleasantries.

So when I see you next and say

“What awful perfume!” and

“What dreadful hair!” you understand

I mean to say

I love you still.

© jsmorgane (April 09)