Am I losing my luster ?
I used to shine and pride over words I spilled
I thrilled over each line
Like I had something to do with the way they laid
Delicately over white page, over soft glowing screen
It seems more likely that the words
That rise like high tide beneath my skin
Fall on there own accord and become something more only
After I have come away
Its in our separation, in my
Neglect and abandonment
That others hold, reach handle it and
There is a fine line, I straddle it
Between what the words want
And what I though I’d mean
And the things that you glean reading between
And the prettiest parts of these simple things
Are the ones that you see that far escaped me
Just beyond my intention more an accident then invention.
I just write when the pressure is high
But as any poet or poetess will confess I
Can hardly claim its what I envisioned
As far as pride
These things write themselves
I'm nearly stretching the truth when I claim
I was only here to help.