My head called for my pen.  
To write of love’s sweet ache.  
But my soul turned inward gray.  
And found no flame to take.  

A silent room, a wordless plea.  
Poor me, poor me, poor me.

Is yours until he gets married,
Then the rest depends on his wife,
If she values family and embraces you as one,
You are lucky and blessed,
Don't let go of her,
Appreciate and value her,
You get to have your son with you.
Otherwise be prepared  without any expectations,
Financially,
Emotionally and
Socially.
26/9/2025
.

Rustles of reading
Pages turned in devotion
Another chapter

The weight of story
The delight of shared pleasure
Private contentment

I'd forgotten this
The old spell cast by whispers
The magic of Hush

Loves reinvention
winter spring summer and fall
natures totality

When you laugh

It is waking at night
Beneath a waterfall

Seeing clear through
The veil

To a multitude of stars