I long for a love that knows no bound
I long for a love yet to be found

I long for days spent in a daze
I long for days that set me ablaze

I long for your touch, so reverent
I long for your touch, so dependent

I long for a love that you could give
I long for a love that could never live

I long for the day you finally see
that we were wrongly meant to be

I don’t want to remember,
this last month of November.
Gouge it from my eyes,
carve it off my lips,
scrub it from my soul.
You see,
the moon rests high,
while the tides pulled low
and waiting for that change
merely hardens the soft blow.

Take the brush from the painter,
You destroy her soul.

Take the music from the dancer,
You destroy her rhythm.

Take the spice from the chef,
You destroy her palate.

But take the dream from the dreamer,
You destroy a nation— the essence of her being!

I remember crying waterfalls in my bed,
struggling to get out,
and then Jesus came.
Jesus saved me.
I accepted Jesus's grace,
and i finally understood.

The afternoon sun opens the day
wiping the morning mist from the sky.
A robin sits on a mossy wall
overlooking the glistening valley,
basking its little chest.
I speak to it,
words gentle, soft and kind.
It looks at me,
a gaze curious, yet knowing,
seeming quiet at its best.
Suddenly, with a song
it takes to the sky,
where old memories lie,
before its ancestors sang,
the caged bird's song.

My niece
made me bangle
of letters, stars, unicorns|
and colored beads

Then it hit me
that's her poem to me
a set of random things
that sit beautifully
side by side
around in a circle

and I noticed that
that's the first time
someone wrote
a poem
about
me