Fine. Since the tea is not forthcoming, let’s have a philosophical conversation – Anton Chekhov
Interpreting a parable I had just read,
I come to a precipitous halt.
And thought how you would decipher it.
Or with a crafty smile,
You would have agreed to my discernment!
My life has always been a stage,
In which characters played their part and left.
But never had any character loved another,
The way you love everyone,
Modestly and powerlessly!
With you, I could descant about
Nietzsche, Steinback, Chekhov or Mary Oliver!
You first revel in their realist rhetoric,
And then profess earnestly,
That others feign to read while I truly read.
In another act of my life’s play,
The entrance of my heart is shut.
In the vacuity, an arid desert develops,
Stretching to miles and never-ending
But you appear like a distant oasis,
And both my medium and subject!