Writing sometimes is painful…gnawing and arthritic post recess. After being hit by a lull, I compose tidbits of words. They are my word clouds; my poems in pretense; they lift me up; they express my innermost feelings.
the nights are cold
the winds blow my facade
and I am left defenseless
i am back to my shell
a place of solace
the apple of my eye is sad
at eleven her world is imperfect
questions stirring the peace
i don’t have answers
i only have love
cross my heart
cross my fingers
there is a bright side
lo a silver lining we'll all
smile and laugh again
