Where is the purpose of this, our life?
Where, now, are all the lives gone past?
Where gayety was, and laughter and tears
Now remains nothing but shadows of memory
...
To me, poetry is an emotional outlet. These are all the poems I have ever written, and they all come from the bottom of my soul :))
Crossroads
What a smile he had
That turned the winter in my heart
To lovely spring
And on a dreary day
It was the sound of his voice
That chased the rain away
My mind had no place
But for thoughts of him
And that horse-face he makes
For in him I had found
A kindred spirit
Who understood my joys and my pains
Funny how it all began
From handstands and monkeys
To late nights on the phone
A wonderful man
With wonderful dreams
May you never change
And always stay true
It is a shame
That my heart had been stolen
Before you came along
But know that you had managed
To snatch a piece away