Not a poem, just a thank you.
Today my HP reads passed the million mark.
A huge thank you to everyone that took the time to read the things I've written and special thanks to those that took the time to like, share and comment.

Thank you all so very much.

Peace

The uncomfortable smile
that you wear on your face
Your self confessed klutzness
and perceived lack of grace

The things that you say
and the things that you do
are just some of the things
I like about you

Like the stillest of waters
you run so deep
and the words that you share
are the treasures I'll keep

You're honest and modest
and fragile yet strong
and yet so uncertain
of where you belong

Let go of your past
leave your baggage behind
and trust in your heart
and just see what you find

You may be surprised
at how good things can be
If you let yourself go
let yourself become free

You'll never get rich as a poet,
its not that you're not any good,
but your words get given away to the poor,
like you're a lyrical Robin of Hood.

Your words will serve as a comfort,
to women and children and men,
but your time and emotions flow freely,
like the ink from your fountain pen.

But lets be honest about one thing,
we don't do what we do for the cash.
Words are like itches we can't quite scratch,
and our poems the resulting rash.

So you'll never get rich as a poet,
at least not in a monetary sense,
but you'll have lived your life in the trenches,
and not watched it pass by from the fence.

I struggle to make sense of it
but the only reason I can see
is that I was there to give you strength
that helped you to set you free

You left a life of comfort
but with no spirit and no soul
for a life with many challenges
perhaps to make you whole

But first one thing then another
made our future hard to see
and after one too many battles
you walked away from me

So tell me whats the lesson here?
What am I learn from this?
That I'm destined to come second?
That I'll never top the list?

Because trust me I know heartbreak,
I've learned that one many times.
But I thought this time was different,
thought I'd read between the lines.

Now all I feel is guilty,
that our crossing paths just made yours worse,
to me you were a blessing.
Was I to you a curse?

What dreams may come to me this night
yet disappear by mornings light
What visions there of you and me
my waking hours will never see

The touch, the taste, the smell of you
Is cast out by the sun
But in the first breath of a brand a new day
Lies the scent of dreams to come