And,
Just like that,
It was October again.
It felt
A little colder,
A little darker,
And a lot less like you.

Solitude, oh solitude!
Why are you still around?
Solitude, my loyal friend,
our time now needs to end.
Home is waiting for me.

Solitude, my loyal friend,
here I am again with you,
too weak to achieve
the one thing that I seek.

Solitude, oh solitude!
Why is it so hard?
So afraid to be hurt
I just can't drop my guard.

Everything I write, everything I draw; delete

The things I create, I cannot complete

Is it being insecure or being lazy?                                                            ­                                                                 ­     

I don't know how to be a productive lady                    

I feel stupid                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                                  

Since I can't anything executed

My work lives in the recycling bin

It's close in resemblance to a din

The backspace key is faded

My soul is abraded

I hate that I can't articulate

Does anyone else relate?

At least this poem is finished but it has no real end                                                              ­                                

I hope it shows what I intend

A flower grows in the garden, blue.
When summer comes it comes to you.
When winter comes it turns from new
to the ghastly grey of once was good.

The Hebrew King David sings it once
everyone tunes in as if he stopped the time
it's a song sang in every mother tongue!

It's a sea of tunes flows on the shore of the body
outpours and dances fashioning in both science and art
waxes through every vein and reaches out to the heart.

Folks love to take a dip in this same mellifluent cloud
but it's as varied as all the different mother tongues,
the one rhymes with all floats across the world.
Over all the different rivers that may zigzag
It knows the way because from the ocean they all come.