A Blank Page Poem by anne seite

I'd like to write a sonnet to despair
but I'm no poet like Byron or Blake.
Words settle in my head and throat, stay there,
And choke me with each new breath that I take.

I had been told I would soon forget pain,
soon learn to live without you by my side.
I've waited for release but all in vain,
for friends and foes unknowingly have lied.


I miss you, as I'll miss you through long years.
No written words will come to ease my grief.
But I can speak of you now without tears,
And in remembering you find some relief.

Time heals all wounds, or so the poet says
But puts no time limit on years nor days.