|
Again here I sit with pen in hand
Watching and wondering why.
Collecting my thoughts to put into rhyme
Reflecting on life with a sigh.
Sometimes I wonder what life is about
I wonder what it is I am missing.
All I would like is a Special friend
To talk to as well as to listen.
I spend a lot of time alone
Observing as life surrounds me.
Putting my thoughts to pen and verse
As I write my poetry.
I never dreamed that I could be
The author of these prose.
I started writing for a gentleman
More exquiaite than a rose.
I thought that I had loved him
I thought he loved me, too.
I knew the feelings within my heart
For him were oh so true.
As time went by I realized
Our love was all one sided.
He never really talked to me
In me he never confided.
We are no more, our time did end
I lost in him, my Special friend.
And now I sit alone and write.
He was within my life, my light.
|
|
