Through the gray fog
of sub-conscious
she seeks the laughter
shared by others
soft eyes full
of questions and desire

With the deepening
Autumn shadows
Winter hovers
in her mind
bitter and sodden
burying all the once warm places
with its icy cover

As endless afternoons
stretch out
in front of her
she reaches
for something
to hold on to

Her slender fingers
cling
to a book
with no substance
just words upon a page

while her fragile mind
weaves a tangled
web
to catch
the scattered elusive thoughts

But the web is empty
its silken threads broken
no longer able to hold onto
eternity

Kiss me in winter when the sun
Hides behind the clouds
My dear winter girl,
Be aware that not all is good
But that doesn't mean all is bad
For what's good lasts us
For what's good like little things let us live
So your mess may be made
But M has no problem making mends
Maybe i can't solve the problems
As much as I like solving problems
Those problems aren't mine to solve
But when I hold you
I hope you know that no matter what problems torment your mind
I will still kiss you the same
I will still see you the same
I will still hold you the same
Until your tears stop falling on my chest
I will hold you til blue meets blue again
And then you will see
That piecing together a puzzle is faster
With two extra hands.

My dear winter girl,
You are what I look for
In every way
Don't doubt my eyes now

Those three words
Only three words
So much feeling
So much need
For those three words
Never knowing what to say
But those three words
Though it’s never the perfect time
For those three words
So I’ll just go ahead and say
Those three words
I. Love. You.

wheel ding utmost pro lix:
scrum compulsions won
despite feeling dog tired, (like a ton
of bricks weighed me down)

while seduced by the sun
solar radiation from the sky didst lightly run
sans, i experienced
a weird wired wider sensation pun
knee sensation otherwise, this sun dry

older puppy nun
the wiser (feeling akin
to an overly sated book worm
to boot) on a Mon
Day, nonetheless, forced
by male incarnation from Lon
don, (via NON FAKE voices

inside my noggin) a potential ***
these tired eyes, could NOT stop reading
even with figurative gun
at my head, until only sluggish progress made,
which daunting task not fun
bore witness thru novel

(in this instance plotting thru - dun
know if fie could finish
One Hundred Years Of Solitude -
by Gabriel Garcia Marquez)

pea pulling his story with bun
dulls of Hiss panic
Alpha Numeric characters, -
per printed page punctuated

concluded with a period,
(premature mental dejected ******* exclaimed
how ah yee got trounced
by harsh obsessive compulsive task master.

"Nay unto you Matthew Scott"!
Uttered by exactly same grievous rot
while er...mailer daemon (as above, ***
tent shill slave driver subsequently not

quite ditto for identical bon mot
mind wielding **** mask kid ding lot
intonation, now setting me hot
to worry about my thinning hair,
the little atop nixed noggin aye got

as expressed vis a vis A previous poem
of mine titled 'Argh! I suffer the plight of Bad
Hair Year In One Day!'

I want to hold you once again.
I feel our connection begin to sever.
I feel like always has turned to never.
I want us to be what we once had been.
I wish this could have lasted forever...