I love you, Catherine;
You’re just a girl.
I’d love you, Catherine,
But there’s the world.
To worry me,
Carry me,
Up on shoulders of giants,
I’ll never be!
And my passions,
They’ll just wait.
Oh my passions,
Read my face.
Written for a character in The Fountainhead. Catherine, of course. Or Peter Keating? I read this book when I was much younger. Please be kind.
:/
ReplyDeleteOh, honey, this one isn't about you. It's a character portrait; I promise. :)
ReplyDeleteRemember, Peter secretly wanted to be a painter, but his stupid mother pushed him into architecture. This poem is about my mother, yes, my mother. :)