Like rain drops plunging
into puddles
this only echos outward.

I can feel it vibrating
the harrowing space
that separates us.

Ripples repeated
trickling with the notion
that it's moving...somewhere.

Slipping into
subtle transformation
that we pray is growth.

Obsorbing within us
like rain drops dancing
bound together by spirit.

Sitting on a ****
Having a rest
Dreaming of wearing
A beautiful dress

Hair cascading
Red curly locks
Waste of time, who cares
There are no clocks

Awaiting a happening
With nothing in sight
Mischief merriment
Anything, even a fright

Breena, bored to death
'Tis true
Wanting only,
For something to do.

I kneel before the river of Eternity, beside the weeping tree. I gaze in wonder at my reflection, this rippling version of me.

Dark hair cascading down my shoulders, framing my thoughtful face. Wind dances delicately around me, my only companion in this place.

I stumbled upon strength somehow, I tucked it away for tomorrow. Still learning a lesson in patience, youth is something we can't borrow.

I'm embarking on a journey, to find this part of me I've lost. This battle within me has to stop, no matter what the cost.

Epiphany gave me the map in hand, after he crippled me with mighty blows. I'm off to defeat the monster in me, and reclaim this person my reflection shows.

not special or unique
just one of many you seek

Just because to love,
someone completely,
is not an easy thing to do,
it is no good reason,
to stop doing it all.

Ma Cherie © 2017

I was sad  so sad
To see you go
Sad to hear
That whistle blow

I saw you sadly to the train
Knowing I'd never see you again

Another Lost love
Another Lost love
No farewell kiss
No tender hug
Just a heart of pain
And a waiting train

Lost Love Lost Love
Love Lost Lost Love

We hadn't long together
We changed just like the weather

As your train speeds away
There's nothing more to say

Another Lost love
Another Lost love
No farewell kiss
No tender hug
Just a heart of pain
And a waiting train

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere. UK  2017.

I take up the gauntlet
Wrestling you, word and rhyme.
Posturing my play afforded,
For a mental good time.

Tatting for ***
This-ing for that
Battling your wit
Prose-ing a chat.

No way to win,
Enticing it may be.
The towel I throw in
You will always beat me!