Dear Inspiration,

If you were a person and had a name, I know just who you’d be, because whenever I’m in her presence, she utterly and totally, but somehow unsurprisingly, inspires me.

Like the moon inspires the night to come alive and shine, so can her presence brighten and light up a room full of empty faces in no matter of time.

Like the rain inspires the desert to bring what is dry and dead back to life, so can just hearing her voice lift you up when you’re feeling lowly and down.

Like the rising sun inspires the morning to light up the day, so can her smile light you up and warm your heart right away.

Like  the start of the day inspires the birds to sing a new song, so can just one kind word off her lips sing to you like a melody that you longed.

Like the dark inspires the stars to dance in the sky at night, so can just one look into her eyes make you feel like a somebody, who isn’t just anybody, in this life.

Like the rain inspires a flower to blossom from just one drop, so can just one innocent touch of her hand overcome you, with a growing longing and adoration.

So dearest Inspiration, I thank you, and I’m ever so grateful. Because now I know your name, and she is utterly and totally, but somehow unsurprisingly, inspirational.



~For Monica~                        © 2025 by DC Poetry

Dear Inspiration,

If you were a person and had a name, I know just who you’d be, because whenever I’m in her presence, she utterly and totally, but somehow unsurprisingly, inspires me.

Like the moon inspires the night to come alive and shine, so can her presence brighten and light up a room full of empty faces in no matter of time.

Like the rain inspires the desert to bring what is dry and dead back to life, so can just hearing her voice lift you up when you’re feeling lowly and down.

Like the rising sun inspires the morning to light up the day, so can her smile light you up and warm your heart right away.

Like  the start of the day inspires the birds to sing a new song, so can just one kind word off her lips sing to you like a melody that you longed.

Like the dark inspires the stars to dance in the sky at night, so can just one look into her eyes make you feel like a somebody, who isn’t just anybody, in this life.

Like the rain inspires a flower to blossom from just one drop, so can just one innocent touch of her hand overcome you, with a growing longing and adoration.

So dearest Inspiration, I thank you, and I’m ever so grateful. Because now I know your name, and she is utterly and totally, but somehow unsurprisingly, inspirational.


~For Monica~                        © 2025 by DC Poetry

If these words, the words I’m writing now, had the power to change. If they could make me the man you’ve always wanted, the man you’ve always needed. If they could take away all your pain, all your tears, all your cares and fears. If they could somehow give you all you’ve ever needed and all you’ve ever wanted.


If these words, the words I’m writing now, if they could give you all your hopes, all your dreams and desires. If they could give you laughter in your sadness and calm you through all the madness. If they could fill your heart with hope as you walk through all your trials.


If these words, the words I’m writing now, could somehow allow you to see inside my heart, inside my soul. If they could somehow change the way you see me, if they could help you believe in the man I am today and the man I’ve yet to become. If only they could help you love me and trust me completely.


If these words, the words I’m writing now, had the power to keep you in my arms, always to hold and always to stay. If these words had the power to right all my wrongs and keep you by my side, to kiss and cherish every night. If they could somehow let you see yourself through my eyes.


If these words, the words that I’m writing now, if only they had the power to break down the barriers between us, then I would write them every day from sunrise to sunset. If these words could somehow change our lives and always keep us together, then I would write them until my hands bled, until they grew old and weak.


I would write them until my eyes could no longer see them in the light. I would write them until on that day, the day you took my hands to hold for the last time. If only these words had the power to change, then I would never stop writing them. Yes, I will never stop writing them, until that day, until my very last day.



© 2025 DC Poetry