She called and said,
Can I come and see you?
I need someone to talk to,
and you’re my only one
when I need like this.

Read me those poems again, she said,
the ones you wrote not long ago
about the guy who loved someone,
so much but never told her
how much he really cared.

Read me those poems again, she said,
about how she never knew
he dreamed of her,
imagined her touch,
and kisses from her soft lips.

Read me those poems again, she said,
make me believe there’s someone
somewhere out there, like that,
thinking about me.
A man who wants to love just me.

Reads me those poems again, she said.
about someone who loves like that.

I can’t believe, I said –
I can’t believe you never knew
these poems are all about you.

They’re all about you.

The Silence
of a 3 AM walk alone,
and
The Silence
of blinking stars
and
The Silence
of a missing heartbeat

are not as quiet
as
The Silence
of nothing left to say
after goodbye.

Many say, "It is just words and rhymes"
Words that don't speak
Words with no meaning

Truth is, the words do speak
but only with your inner-self
That's the reason poetry is healing

a
little
dot
going
round
and
around
to
send
you
CRAZY

Rainy At My House

Torrents of rain
Flume for the gutters
Blankets of gray
Spread out above us

Treetops sashay
Swinging here and then fro
Like wild swing dancers
Commandeering the floor

Windows bead heavy
With water droplets
Some are seen racing
With weightful swiftness

Wrens still sing
With treetops for cover
It makes a great stage
As well as umbrella

Shhhhh of wet tires
Hog all the air
It's rainy at my house
But sunny somewhere

Bill MacEachern August 2024

September rain  
falling grey on Monday faces
washes out the dusty traces
of August in the air,
coffee mug memories
warm and serene,
muse on the summer it might have been