Sometimes, even with the best of care, love fades and withers.
Life sometimes stumbles in the way of love. Written in 1999, this poem tells that story .
A lthough he wasn’t Johnny Appleseed He climbed an apple tree for me. A slip of foot, tossed him to sky And we both found he could not fly
Can the tale of sound be told?
Seen and felt instead of heard?
If it’s possible to do,
I offer you these words —
I am not the love of your life.
And neither are you, mine.
Illusion is an outcast we both leave behind.
Now we dare embrace the reality we find.
Holding you close is, for me, just enough
Because you are the life of my love.
The chameleon crept to where he resides.
He hides in a crack in the wall,
The place his identity is unalibied
And his true colors are recalled.
Heaven is the place …
Where the harp string never breaks in the middle of the concert;
Where clumsy fingers never strike the wrong chord;
Where we can walk barefoot and our feet never stumble, step on a thorn, or stub a toe;
Nighttime feelings, fires, and terrors —
Sometimes it’s good to pause and write
Of feelings that wake you in the night
Read it as a poem.
Read it as a rhyme.
Read it as a song in 2/4 time.
Read it through until the end.
It’s just my way
To try explain
What’s going on with me again.
Lost: Gray cat with brown collar.
Answers to “Cat.” May answer to “Furball.”
(Depending on his mood)
I am not expert in any of the topics found in this blog. All content is the product of personal experience, research, imagination, and/or opinion.
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