Brown Penny

There's so much I want to say and so much that I've recently been thinking about. Sometimes I get so sick of my own voice, feeling it's too navel-gazing, too self-indulgent; I get tired of my voice because I feel like it's completely narcissistic to write about me, about my thoughts, my feelings, my opinions, and I start to sound a little whiny to my own ears. After all, who gives a flying fuck what I have to write about? So for this entry, I will type out a poem, although written in a man's voice---it's one of my favorites that emotes much of what I currently feel.  I owe a deep debt of gratitude to that great Irishman, Mr. William Butler Yeats.

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.