She's got art and power
And she's not afraid to show it off
All I've got is a few bad rhymes
Chilled to the bone by an internal scoff

She's a natural born creative
Confidence like a high class egomaniac
I'm an extraordinary type of average
And fragile like a budding lilac

Try to criticize her and she will deny you
Rebuke you, refute you, and defy you
Becoming stronger, harder and better
Nothing you can do will ever end her

Imply that I might somehow be inferior
I will run, hide, and be reduced to tears
Force me to face my greatest fear
Tell me I'm not good enough to be here

That is the difference between me and her

he tells her not to worry
he'll only leave at her command

she loves him in a hurry
afraid he'll leave again

a love that burned with a fury
and just as easily slipped through their hands

If poems meant words
And words were there

Where do you go?
When words you once wrote you let go?

Do you still hear an echo?
Where did you go?

He gently traced her scars,
Kissed them gently,
Helped them heal.
She calmed his troubled breathing,
Rubbed his back,
Hugged him tightly.
They were there for each other,
When the world and
Their own minds attacked them,
When no one else came to their aid.
That's love.

I started writing at sixteen years of age
I not long turned seventy six still write
I don't write to only please others at all
I write what I see I know day or night

I live by my values integrity principles
The captain of my very own soul I be
Don't need religions advice in life
I walk my own line uncrossed but free

Poetry is the very voice of your soul
As it comes to mind child or academic
Write your feelings honesty sincerely
Speak from your soul simply no panic

The soul older than all time yours too
Always be yourself write your own way
If any don't like it well thats just tough
You are so meant to be night and every day

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018