if i don't spit it out now
as it snows
if i don't pace my words
with those
white cotton balls...
it certainly will be
like you and me
not taking chances of us ever meeting
of if we prolong...
it would be wrong
like anything that's late
by just a second
wrong like a gap
between i feel-i do
no double thought
from now on i reckon
it's wrong
i'll check it later
them cooing words
i'll brush them up
a flock of tiny birds
i will arrange them
square them somehow
tomorrow..
but i will keep writing here, now