True, writing poems
doesn't mean I'm a poet...
If there could be a place
where realism fades into the background...
Children are excited
For this special time to come...
A man walks into a bar
Jaws drop from near and far...
Those dreams of mine;
Shape shift and twine...
I want to sit on the edge of a cliff
and gaze at the sun touching the sea...
You surface without announcing
understand the depth of my feelings...
I've come past wanting and yearning
for a tall, dark and handsome man...
After a long evening
of mental anguish...
The Drop Zone
Many times you saw me...
A minute's breath, stepping
on stair steps laden with...
Writing is my passion,
how can I resist...