My heart is like a snow laden car
Freezing in the bitter cold
Left to stand in a parking lot semi-alone
Clearing my windows I depart
Most anxiously to feel the need
And yet as in each morning, each winter
When the days are dreary and quick to dark
There is a frost to be found all around
And so my hesitant in heart
Is to turn over and start
Warming only by this, the end of this drive
For my heart is like a snow laden car
Covered and only to be seen in part
When cleared away the beating heart
Is too warm too late and frozen still
If you cannot bend
Twist or appreciate them
Or use them in a more patient way
I want nothing
For you have nothing
And no power over me
For words are more than anything
More than the abstract mind in all of it madness
More beautiful than the mountains
And more volatile than the sea
Are such words
If you let them
And I do
As snow descends unto the earth
With a calming, soothing, effortless ease
So you my friend should be like the snow
And settle the horizon beyond the trees
No snowflake was ever meant to last
Or to live to see the newborn leaves
For we are uniquely designed by God
As unique and beautiful as these
I look at my desk.
And, I find Index Cards, lined paper, and, Notebooks.
I don't remember putting them there.
I see red pens, Blue Pens, and sharpies.
Actually, all types of writing utensils.
Apparently, she doesn't discriminate.
On this desk, I find scribbles and Poems.
Articles of writing that belonged to me.
But, they are not mine.
I don't remember writing these poems.
Yet, my Name is on them.
No, they are not mine.
She wrote them.
They belong to the person who,
looked back at me in the Mirror yesterday.
She wrote them a lifetime ago.