A rose blooming in a summer rose bed
stops to envy you as you smell the roses.
For two beauties sit in the picture,
but neither is the rose.
The sight of you is a wonder to my eyes,
one that keeps me warm through winter days.
The grace inside you is as beauty
and beyond my words to explain.
So when I fumble my syllables,
embrace me as the rose embraces the rain.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

As a woman, I have always
felt the pressure to procreate.
And if I succeed,
well, I better be the best mother I can be.
But what if, I’m scared
Of the pressures of social media.
That the moms that populate the page
will always be better than me.
That I may spread
my infected genes.
That maybe, right now, the world is
just a scary place to be.
But what if, I decide
to do things for me?
Does that deserve
to be guilty?

Someone once called me demure,
I didn't know the word
I looked it up that night
It stuck with me ever since
I'm quiet, I know
But the beast growls low inside
Begging for release
It distracts me sometimes
I don't hear what you said or I nod solemnly
To hide my inner longing to be free
I'll keep my face in the light
And I'll growl at night

I fell in love with candlelight-
in my darkness, she shone so bright.
She danced the breeze, lit up the night,
her glow consumed my very sight.

But wax and wick both burn away,
and candlelight just cannot stay.
As sure as night turns into day,
that fickle flame will go astray.

But for a moment, through the storm,
she lit my world, she kept me warm,
then flickered out, as is the norm
for candlelight, its fleeting form.

I fell in love with candlelight,
for but a moment, all was right.
Her glow, her dance, consumed my sight,
and faded out at end of night.

So many place their trust
        not in the present but in the past