From Shelter Warm
• 05/08/24 at 02:34AM •From shelter, warm,
to darkness, cold,
my love for you,
will never get old.
Weather storms,
spawns a heavy rain.
Must I tell you?,
Must I explain.
From shelter, warm,
to darkness, cold,
my love for you,
will never get old.
Weather storms,
spawns a heavy rain.
Must I tell you?,
Must I explain.
The harsh light,
pours from skylights above.
Harsh on these old eyes,
still searching for a lost love.
I sit in wonder,
now alone,
with no one close,
who I could phone.
Not talking about
my family,
but about my
missing thee.
Thee who was,
my lovely wife,
no longer here but
now gone, from life.
I talked with her,
about daily events,
we had our positions,
weren't on the fence.
This luxury is
no longer here,
so I sit alone,
she's not near.
I know this sounds,
like a "Woe is Me,"
but in fact,
it's my reality.
A long time ago,
in a faraway place,
I envisioned, the beauty,
of seeing your face.
Your brown eyes,
so, warming to see.
The voice of an Angel,
who I saw, in thee.
Love, the eternal feeling of
the love of another. A deep,
caring love, which you never,
experience again. Cherish it now.
The world may never know
My love for you
And they may not even care.
Others may not understand,
This feeling
And they may not try.
It doesn't matter if they do,
All that is important is
Your knowing it is you.
When the light,
hits your eyes,
it is a reflective
surprise.
Long will I,
think of you,
for I am missing,
you, too.
Do I know,
who you are,
or where you live,
near or far?
Probably not,
is what I'd say,
as for you,
please, go away!
Was that,
rude of me?
I am blind,
and cannot see.
Please leave,
now, please.
Just go away,
let me be at ease.
Feelings, at this point in life,
tend to get complicated.
Here is an earlier writing,
that tries to simplify the feeling.
I am touched by being
Touched.
I am in love by being
Loved.
I am one by being
Many.
Reflections about acts often taken
without thought of the differences
they made. I miss this.
Lying close
With deepest breathing,
Beads of love,
Appear in hairlines,
Eyes closed,
As if sleeping.
Quickly, with a deft motion,
You pull away,
From me
And are gone.
We traveled miles.
We traveled far,
looking oh looking,
to find where you are.
I know you are gone,
over four months now,
as I struggle to be strong,
fulfilling our marriage vow.
I love you more than
simple words can say,
and still miss you,
after you've gone away.
Expectations by others of how
we behave when interacting with others,
has influenced, in my mind, how we
think and stifles inquisitiveness.
If I enjoy living,
please tell me why,
I fight depression.
When I am happy,
no other person is happier
but when I am sad,
how depressing.
I must be a paradox,
to my friends,
those that I have.
Moods make the
personality, but we
are not supposed to be
moody.
Perhaps, we are not
supposed to have moods
but be even tempered or
mechanical.
What happens,
when you think
what you've written,
is wasted ink?
I like to believe that once a thought is captured in writing, it is read, interpreted, admired, accepted, rejected or modified. As time passes, it may stand alone or it may combine with other thoughts. In either form it has the chance of becoming immortal.