Many write poems to sell. Others to gather a form of following of one’s ego. My only reason in writing my poetry is to share my own personal journey with others. The works are written to hope in writing my journey, others will be able to relate and connect and say in finishing a work, “That is exactly how I feel but could never put to words. I do not feel so alone now.”
There are times lately
that loneliness fills a gaping hole in my being.
I cannot explain it
it is like a rolling wave of tears
attempting to crush me.
I find myself fighting the darkness
that seems to fill the moment.
I am an empty cup seeking
the sweet wine of Love.
Even though I am around those
who speak the words of Love
I do not feel the warmth and joy
of Love as I remember it.
It is at those times
that my mind recalls in vivid detail
joyful times of love in my life.
I am blessed in being able
to recall those memories.
Without them perhaps
I would stop existing.
Last night a dream
entered my sleep.
I do not know who she was.
I was walking alone and she came up
beside me and grabbed my hand.
Her words were…
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