Meticulous beyond what I should be,
I creep by inches up into my point.
Caution is the watchword inside me,
And haste would seem distinctly out of joint.
I calmly pause, consider what is known,
Debate internally a while more,
Collect the seeds of doubt that I have sown,
And contemplate each one; I can't ignore
The slightest factor that might have affected
The workings of the problem I perceive,
Nor can I risk one going undetected
And so I think and think, 'til I believe
I've thought it through enough. This is all true
But not in every case: only with you.
No comments:
Post a Comment