Brown Penny

"Romantic" by definition is "imaginary but impractical, visionary". . . has romance left the scene, is it something that is often referred to in a past tense, something not of this age? Is it something in this day in age where any gesture would fall under ridicule simply because the mere impression of it lacks integrity or is it that we are so caught up in our day to day business...that we fail to enjoy the simple things we so easily overlook. I'm thinking of this in a very broad sense of course, however, I would consider myself a person who may fall within this category. I sometimes I wonder if the current day has catered so much to the immediate gratification that some of the magic has been lost.

I'm beginning to wonder if this rant has a point....

...honestly I don't know...should it? What I do know is things don't seem as simple as they once were. We live in a cynical world so full of "HR" the mere idea of the possibility of offending people seems to ruffle so many feathers that rarely are any chances taken. I don't want to send the impression that the HR portion of our world in useless or not needed...it is. But what I'm getting to is that the world that has so many possibilities...so much "vision," a place where impractical becomes reality...that often times we don't take chances..we don't step outside our box. We hesitate, we don't say what we mean. We keep it inside. Romance often leads to the stepping out...the chances we take...especially when it comes to love.

It seems that we can't truly experience what love has to offer unless we first experience the hurt, and at the same time allow ourselves to heal so that we can begin the journey once more. Or, we seem to time and time again sabotage those relationships that could mean something because of a fear. Because it may be too good to be true.

I whispered, "i am too young,"
and then, "I am old enough;"
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love

"Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair."
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.

O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love.

Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.