I realize I’m explaining myself
To somebody these days – not sure who.
I’ve always talked to myself
And had good rapport with that guy,
Who helped remind me
Of what to say and when.
Seems there’s a group of them now,
But all are on my team.
I pour my guts out daily,
Writing with tears as my ink,
But they seem to keep me grounded
Through it all.
I think I’m writing so much
Because I have no one to talk with.
Aloneness works for writers.
They generally will seek solitude.
Of course, when there’s no choice,
That’s a horse of a different color.
It’s been so long
Since I’ve had you to come home to…
To share our day’s delights…
And melt away the unimportant
With an easy embrace…
Oh, remember, sometimes
You’d place your arms around my neck
And I’d lift you up off the floor
Till neither could take a breath?
I’d place you down
And it was like a day beginning anew.
Simple.
That’s all it took sometimes.
I miss all that, Deb.
It’s been so long.
3-29-2015
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Bill, I love this poem and have voted it a ten. Whoever voted it a six is crazy or just plain cruel.
Thanks so much, Kim.