No longer will sadness set the tone,
Despair won't define my waking hours;
Never will the sun hear me bemoan
Lonely tears that cascade like Spring showers

To solitude's woes I'll not be bound
As long as the sun saunters the sky;
Like vile weeds I'll pluck them from the ground,
Laughing as their flowerheads droop and die

Love's silent voice will be disavowed
Since it will not speak the words I crave;
In defeat my head will not be bowed,
To Love I'll not be a faithful slave

I'll mimic the music box dancer,
Twirling 'round and 'round in silent glee,
While secretly begging the answer
To why Love withholds its melody

All throughout the day I'll wear a smile,
Every tortured longing will take wing;
I'll defy Fate's decree all the while,
But when night falls ..... well,  that's another thing!

I hate hearing something that absolutely kills you inside
and having to act like you don't care.

Seeking to escape harsh reality,
I pretended to be a vine,
Climbing and clinging to a strong oak,
My eager tendrils did entwine;
With gladdened heart each morn I awoke,
Free of cares and woes, and life was fine

'Round and 'round I twisted, embracing him --
To reach Heaven's light was my goal;
Steadfast and oh, so strong was my oak,
He calmed the unrest in my soul;
Proudly I became his leafy cloak,
But overconfidence took its toll

My sheltering oak had grown tired of me,
He released me and down I fell;
It was then I yearned to be a rose
Of great beauty and fragrant smell;
Why this vain choice?  Only Heaven knows!
What folly, but how was I to tell?

Along came the bees, then the butterflies,
And soon they drank my nectar dry,
Slowly I withered, then my head drooped,
The ingrates left me there to die;
O, to what wickedness they had stooped!
With lowered head, a worm I did spy

Calmly he laid upon the Earth's *****,
Then burrowed deep into the ground,
It opened its arms and welcomed him,
And therein he dwelt, safe and sound;
Being covered by soil seemed so grim,
Yet worth the contentment he had found

"That's it!" I cried, "I want to be a worm,
Hiding deep in my earthen lair,
Where soon I'll forget life's cruelty
And the torments that drove me there!"
And no one will come to look for me,
They might know I'm gone . .  but they won't care

Foolish woman, trying to drown her distress,
She ambles down rainy streets alone;
Weary, she grapples with her loneliness,
Poor thing! she'll return drenched to the bone

There are feelings she finds hard to define ----
Walking in the rain helps clear her view;
Soon the proper words and cadence align,
And with verse she'll share her pain with you

Poems are a priceless commodity
That allow sorrow to be dispersed;
And you, loyal patron of her artistry,
Will read words in which you're well rehearsed

Once again, her tears will run down your face,
With closed eyes you will clearly review
All the memories her mind can't erase,
All because her poem spoke to you

I've never envied another woman
For her jewels or garments finely sewn,
But I can't conceal the envy I feel
Knowing she has love to call her own

To see her walking as though she had wings
On her feet makes me pause in wonder;
And hard though I try, I cannot deny
I envy this spell that she's under

Once an elderly couple caught my eye ---
A man and woman whose youth had flown,
But her countenance, in radiant trance,
Left no doubt his love was hers alone

What envy permeates my waking hours --
What vile winds across my heart have blown!
I don't ask for much - a man's tender touch,
Just a love that I can call my own

But lonely days and nights turned into years,
And O, how my restlessness has grown!
I fear I shall die without knowing why
I never had love to call my own

Why do we always look to the skies
When we can't find the answers around us?
What are these inexplicable ties
That have encumbered our minds and bound us?

Why can't we admit the glaring truth?
No one from another realm hears our cries;
Though you may find my thinking uncouth,
I find no proof of heavenly allies

Only to each other are we linked
Through all the miseries that Life imparts,
When the sobbing's heard, clear and distinct,
Help comes only from caring human hearts