We never totally appreciate, or seek,
What is truly important, in life, this time,
A special connection, with someone,
A person who cares,  
Always craving, to be around you,
Not just in words, in actions, their life,
Sharing, showing, daily, positive signs.
A person who want’s you, for you,
Someone you think of, that makes your eyes shine,
You both enjoy, giving and receiving,
Together, always floating, so high.
I will hold that dream, of a special lady,
Wanting to bring it to reality, outside.
After my mom passed fifteen months ago,
I lost the last of all, who I truly loved, or did me,
I would cherish, sharing the feelings, for the rest of this life,
Before my soul, sails like a dove, high above the seas.


                                                                                                                                                     Tom Maxwell ©
                                                                                                                                                     11/04/2019 AD
                                                                                                                                                   1:13 PM

Pages of instructions, arrive,
With almost everything,
Except the most important thing,
Human life, Our lives,
Some are honest,
Always honest, trying to keep things right,
Others, like snakes,
Waiting in the dark, to advance with a strike.
Some people will help,
A stranger, bleeding in need,
Then after their scars heal,
They will take advantage of the one who cared,
With acts of personal greed.
We are just creating memories,
As we travel, towards the end, in our own way,
How do you want to be judge?
At the end, on that final day?
                                                                                                                                                                    Tom Maxwell ©
                                                                                                                                                                    4/30/2020 / 10:45 AM

Is this the Subject, of the story                    
The way it is, explained to you,
Those, just playing their part,
Or you really, just that board,
Your life, without a clue.

Is it all about competition,
Bragging rights, about what you do,
You will never get ahead,
When you only follow, their rules.

Those voices in your mind,
Your inspirations, for life, this time,
At different moments, in this journey,
They come to life, to keep you in line.
2/12/2020 AD   Tom Maxwell

To write Poetry ,
One must relax,
let, their mind slip away,
Discovering, feelings, emotions,
Then writing, what the thoughts say.
It can not be forced, A certain day or time,
Any unplanned situation, can bring the writer A rhyme,
A lost art in society, today, deep thinking, in one’s own mind.

Tom Maxwell
2020 copyright