Dam

A flood, dammed up by beavers or by man,
Must let a space still (narrow though it be)
Where water can flow openly and free,
Lest that the water (as we know it can)
Burst through and wreck the dam's initial plan,
Ripping apart the seams we cannot see
That water infiltrates perpetually,
And sends the center spinning from the span.
But when harsh time insists I may not write,
Or stern technology decrees the same,
They let no words bypass my utter plight,
And put great stress on the resulting frame.
Thus when restrained I quickly burst quite through
Wrecking restraint to write my love of you.