Barefoot on Thin Ice HTML version

I'm not sure whether
It was the tilt of her head
Or the look in her eye
But it worked.
The devil on my left shoulder
Is wringing his hands
And the angel on my right
Is wringing hers too.
Perhaps it was the way she shivered
When she realized that there is no law
That she cannot be herself.
Her parents named her after
Innocence and responsibility.
She took it to heart.
If I were a real man
I would chase her
Until she caught me
And we could wrestle on the green grass
And giggle.
I will wait for her
But I will devote my interim to
Buying 12 x 3/4" self-tapping screws
And writing curious syllabi
And sweeping my floor too often
And the silence of trepidation.