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Who am I smiling to?
Who am I Talking to?
To me.
The me I should really
Take more notice of.
More than the me
Who can't see wood and trees
Mixing unfathomable metaphors.
I saw a voice
So warm and free
And felt a cut
I couldn't see
Sound and vision
Could have been
So far apart
Until, were paused
To begin again
In Unity.
I wonder a lot who is the
I refer to so much.
And the truth is
There as many answers
As there are "Yous".
A moment in my time
May be more than a moment in others.
Why, why
Are these memories so hard to pin down?
Why are the images of the you
Gazing at the red rose memorial sadly,
Sadly merged and smudged
On a canvas, I not only don't possess
Or Own
But can't see either.
Do you really want to" mess with my head"?
Are you the wannabe?
Or a different whoerbe?
Are you many different people?
All of whom I admit puzzle me,
In this world where puzzles are many and diverse.
For red roses to me, mean a
A long ago funeral of a long lost parent
From a partner left bereft and lost
In a world not understood alone.
No long ago  red and rosy posy
Sent from a special person to me;
Or reciprocated,
In my many varied past.
I could be speaking to anyone
Because anyone always has An identity
That is smudged and merged also.
We all stumble and roll
In the fog of a faceless and a
Even they have lost themselves in,
Leaving the rest of us
In seas too
Deep and wide to navigate safely it seems.
Prove us wrong.
i know your heart
and now
i wish your smile would fill me my vision
as todays empathies
fill my thoughts
i can't promise you my yesterdays
but my todays' are as full of you
my tomorrows are As full of light
as this Moon shining strongly
as i peep softly
and smilingly
at a fear that has flown like these
Graceful guttural
and swiftly soaring birds
that surround the you
And  me; soaring with  such a
Freedom; i don;t mind that this may not last now
For it will return as surely as
My breath mists the eyes I
no regrets for who of us we knew anyway.
The child I was
Was the child I became
Sad, silent eyes that I don't remember
To myself Or
The world
My world was small and narrow
And surrounded by people that that I liked and even loved
Puzzling they seemed
Lots of friends as puzzled as I at this strange
World populated by those large, tall and passionless adults, calling the Many words of friendship
Not only I mistrusted.
We grew together and apart
And mourned those we lost in whatever ways,
The next generation children of the
Generations before
And before them.
We didn't think to complain
No one did then.
And now?
We finally find,  and I hope its not only I,
That the freedom
We've sought In so many
Inappropriate and self- destructive
Solutions, began
With one small journey
That stretches into some far off horizon
None of us can see.
I've never tried to edit a poem before, so I hope it has improved the sense of it. I've found that punctuation can improve understanding.
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