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Glancing outward from my bedroom window,
I can see the old park bench worn with years;
The Autumn leaves have fallen all around it,
some have blanketed the seat like golden tears.

My world inside is filled with warmth and light,
a lovely crystal lamp stands by my bedside;
A few words of love are written to my sweetheart,
then I close my eyes while my heart cries.

The last few days have seemed vague and empty,
no letters have arrived at my front door;
He'd held me close and whispered words of love,
those feelings kept me strong and reassured.

But in this festive multi-colored season,
which usually cheers me through the holidays;
The wonder of it all has vanished quickly,
and sights of amber glow have gone astray.

I guess we sometimes live in a strange reality,
that things will stay the same and love will grow;
Some other time my questions will be answered,
and peace will reign along with winter's snow.
Whether a comma, or colon:
Punctuation slows my rolling
I need no period. When I end
no Capitalization when I begin
Rulelessly I flow my art
  Not a single!
Exclamation mark
Are you not the one
Who'll know?
Where a question mark
No longer goes

Warp the structure
Bend the lines
Put in repeat
Let emotion unwind
Make yourself
Your poetry's the best
Be your own ruler
Pass your own test

Take your own road
Where ever it leads
Lover or hater
It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim
.


Hay
No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!

Vanity
All is vanity
The meanings of passion
The aesthetic expression
The lines we draw and stay within
Even love is beyond intent
Vanity transcends
Flowing from our pens
And so we breathe again
A silent star
Of our point of view
The moon
Tugging on the waters
Of youth
The sun
A burning pandemic
Of blistering fun
But we won't be here
When said and done
Not these shells
Of flesh and dung
So Beautifully ugly
This secular tongue
This Earth
Forever more
Eternity a revolving door
We’ve all been here before
.................
Traveler Tim
Sleep,
a phantom
sea, adrift
on a wave
light years
away, awake
way past 4
in the dark shade
of her absence,
my loss, a fissure,
not a metaphor
for a fault,
just my heart
and all
its vagaries.
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