P.S. Poem by Pasquale DiMeola

Would if the hands that adored you
Became your rigid chair
Kept the noose from tightening blue
Or legs flapping the air

Just eased you in a safety net
So all the days were saved
Then smudged away the sad regret
Within the mind engraved

The warning signs would had their heed
The words would have been said
A chapter of a soul in need
Between the lines well read

There needn't been a frantic look
A love would be alive
A sequel to life's second book
Instead of thoughts contrived.