I was sorting through some books today. I stumbled upon an old poetry book from my freshman year of college. Flipping through it, I remembered just how much I loved that poetry class. It felt classy. Collegiate. Mature. All the things I had wanted to be at the time.
I had highlighted 435,605 poems in the book. Looking back, many of the poems I loved were lovely. There are still a few that stick out as favorites. But, now, I can like them for no good reason. There isn't a professor helping me decide which ones speak my language. One that I love today...
William Carlos Williams (1883-1963)
This Is Just to Say 1934
I have eaten
that were in
you were probably
they were delicious
and so cold.
And one that I will always LOVE. Is right here.
I guess I've made it. Classy. Collegiate. Mature.