Come here for my poems. I look forward to your impressions, emotions and inspirings.
Art credit Angel Dominguez
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We gathered on the strand
as her letter had asked;
each mourner held a page
from our friend who had passed.
What if I was searching for my self
would I recognize myself as me?
The morning’s empty city streets
provided me the liberty
to sneak a peek around me
A walk with trees
and singing streams,
rinses the weary
away from me.
Aloft again
and leaving from this pleasing place,
I gaze across the clouds
that form so fleetingly.
It may seem dark and darker where you are
morning hasn’t broken yet for you.
She blew in like the Summer Breeze
“Mommy, may I have a drink?”
Then she asked around her cup,
“What should I be when I grow up?”
She came to me
with the gentlest caress,
through my window last evening,
amidst my distress.