A giving soul,
I see you
as you give away the pieces
of yourself to those
that need you.
I could take a lesson from that.
My only warning
is to be careful about giving yourself
to those that do not recognize
that pain never comes from the outside,
that they are responsible solely
for their own darkness.
Those people will **** you in,
swallow you whole,
digest your kindness
and turn it to dust.
Trust me,
I used to be one of them.
Sometimes I still am.

A work of art I must produce
One eye on the clock
and one on the muse
I sit here waiting
and watching time
Slip quietly by
with hardly a chime

With her she takes
my thoughts and expressions
Clears out my head
no trace of compassion

Beggared and blighted
An innocent fool
A would-be poet
stripped of her tools

I'm sure I should be grateful
for peace and quiet aplenty
but can't help being  resentful
at the cost of poetic currency

And yet again the night finds me alone
As this day slips into tomorrow;
Though my reason for happiness has flown,
Missing him is a beautiful sorrow

It may seem quite a melancholy task
Carrying this lost love to my grave;
Strangely, contentment wears many a mask --
His memory keeps me its joyous slave

All my gladness now dwells in yesterday,
Love's blissful past rests in twilight dreams
Where golden bees still sip the flower's spray,
And wild roiling seas become gentler streams

Time has purified the love we once shared,
In this realm of dreams there are no flaws;
Love thrives with a certainty never dared,
And is governed by joy's eternal laws

I now see his love through a different eye,
It lends greater comfort than before;
And the fear that his love may one day die
Lies in peaceful repose forevermore

Until this clay frame sets my spirit free,
I'll have memories from which to borrow;
Though seemingly strange my utterance may be,
Missing him is a beautiful sorrow!