You started off
Creating snapshots out of words you caught,
Shouting out my name calling to my interests.
I was happy to come and be softly
Caressed by words that hate, love, feel, taste
To mediate for my torn heart strings
To just listen to the poem,
Re-understand’em get to know them.
Stick around long enough for soft images
To reconcile lost moral, revive my sense of self.

Opening led to spilled words,
You must have smiled to have heard,
Because you retorted immediately, messaged
A kind word. You became a friend of the pen,
Than a pen pal and then Stepping from
Ambiguity of dark tree limbs you
Climbed into my heart and became my friend.

The only problem is that moment you transformed,
From rhymes and font on page, to a voice
with dialect, Tenor, Volume
and inflection, something changed.
Poems I have read a dozen times,
I just can’t read the same, Because
every time I end a line
I hear a southern twang.

what is this?
a shallow spark?
a dying ember?
a glint of sun in defrosting december?
what is this?
this is how i remember...

what is summer too?
is it the same to me as is to you?
its warm grasp and gentle rays,
reminisce of times with her and the days.

that we spent together,
the spectacular weather
and not ever having to question whether
the sun would ever, stop shining.

the warm summer morn
before we were torn
and cool starry night
and the tears i'd have to fight

through,
i remember what i'd say to you
and what i said now...
the season's changing
in my head

seasons change
but i stay the same
it seems a bit strange...
am i to blame?

i... i don't know anymore
the sun is blazing and the moon is hazy
they chase me
sometimes fight in the sky
i think to erase me

the grey wolves howl
blue dragons growl
tigers roar and on the prowl
they each have their flames
but this world and its games
and i don't know where casts the blames.