Within a privacy of a room, with curtains closed,
and a dim light, a wife politely asked her...
Me wonders how the years
have been flying with no wings...
A mighty sword of steel
swashed on air...
I thought my thoughts were clear
like rivers flowing with streams...
I met you in a crowded room,
as crowded as the closet in my bedroom...
In the kitchen-
Fingertips trace ashes splattered over counters...
There's no quietude
everywhere I turn to...
Dear reader,
eons ago, I used to sing...
Solitude,
you visited my life in my gloomy times...
A young boy once asked me, "ma'am, pardon my...
To which I replied...
This journey of words that my fingers trek,
it's something more than just a trip, I take...
I've written poems about love and hate
so many poems that my mind lost count...