Rebecca Stansfield Poems

</>Season soon arrives,
this that there place of cold,
running through us like a knife that cuts,
getting the better of us.
...

I am the child,
the woman becoming.
I am the rain,
the shelter I am seeking,
...

The man next door in the car,
not speaking in a way of laughter,
just speaking, to his wife.
...

Laughter is something that I see,
the man in-front of me,
laughing, always meaninglessly,
acting what I never want to be.
...

Oh I remember when my dreams were still alive,
how daily you'd angel me and save my life,
but now out of the window looking-
thinking about my future-
...

I once felt this feeling worse,
than how I'm feeling it now,
but never did it feel as if,
it would not go away the morning.
...

How is the substance made the,
L O V E, feeling-it for you,
of all amenity of feelings, I,
am bound to feel for you.
...

How is around in mind,
the how of enormous of timings,
in this that so crude of telling lies,
and telling of OUR feelings.
...

Blank paper pack arrives,
my stare projecting on the page,
and what was a full filled thought,
now a panting in my mind.
...

In the spring your seeds would fluctuate,
as butterflies above you flew,
but this time you started realising,
your fondness for weather changes grew.
...