in some Assuming

once been a fiction writer, some think 
her poems are lies, with horror and thrill and all.
"It must be some fiction trying to..." they'd jeer.

She smiles then shudder at the imprudence
of it, then with pity, jokes, "Probably you are
right." then shrugs. Nevertheless,

she examines her poetry; sees it as true and 
hurried as the impatient dame herself.
only needs to morph more.

"Assume all you might," she whispers them, "but
know that, in doing so, you lose your empathy
and quality of word; what a waste. 

"That's how we lost each other, long ago,
on the green hill, on a balmy, dazed day.
what follows: years of tossing at night in doubt."


(c) Byung A. Fallgren