the gentle rain
on the window
reminds me of
a simpler time

of a moment that
is still to happen

somewhere,
someday,
with you

nothing would make me happier
than to hold your hand for the rest of our lives
grow old with you
and watch our grandchildren play under
the magnolia trees in the summer sun.

The Angels must all be taking a break
or this now-rotten world has them all busy somewhere.
And I am in fear for heaven …
as God seems so intent on calling you back there.

Such a better place it is …
this world here with you in it.
My life has found this blissful peace …
and an admiration because you never quit.

I've read he will never bestow upon you,
something that you can't handle.
I guess it's true, as your light seems to come
from an eternally burning candle.

It's flame has shown me images
of your life, loves and times.
Eloquent, beautiful, filled with memories
that flow like water through the rhymes.

Go there then, when your time comes …
Mary Gay Kearns.
Your candle will be shining ever so bright here …
as it forever burns.

You've given us all something …
to see and learn and feel.
You've lived a life that many would envy
and shared these scenes so real.

And when you are gone, you'll never actually be.
In my heart, you're alive, for ever more.
And some day I will touch your paintings,
when I, finally, again cross your shore.

Go, with that smile and be content.
God needs you ... even I can see.
For I am in fear for Heaven …
They must need you desperately.

I remember
sometimes

her voice would quiver

like paper lanterns
dancing in some
foreign nighttime glow

I fancy
sometimes

I knew that sweet tremble

at a tea ceremony table
beneath Chinese skies
many years before

it first caressed my ear

i dread the day you learn
for the first time that
you can't just love all
the darkness in me away

and no matter how much
you care i will still toss
and turn at night and scars
might still appear on my skin

i dread the day you realize
that you can't cure me
and sometimes all you can do
is stand next to me and
hold my hand through fog
pouring out of my ears so black
and thick we can't even see
each other's faces

i dread the days i can't
get out of bed
the days you want to
take me out and all
i can manage is a prettified
shell of myself

i dread the day you learn
that sometimes no matter
how hard i try i still can't
pull myself together

the day you learn that
there isn't an answer
you can give that will
save me from my fears

you aren't the first person
who has tried to love the
darkness inside away
my family and friends
have given it their all
but someday you too will learn
that if love could
cure mental illness
the world would be
a much better place

I'm here sitting
alone,
the smell of coffee runs through
my veins,
some music i probably will forget
in a few years arguing with
the thought of you,

But I'm here,
I'm here,
writing about what's happening

pretty boring huh?

i call myself a poet
but i can't use high metaphors,

i call myself a poet
but i can't describe fully
how you make me feel

i call myself a poet

but what am i?

I'm just a kid
scared of life
finding new ways to cope
searching for someone to love,
desperate,
not holding unto my dreams
how can i choose with my mind
what's right for the heart to choose.

and you see?
don't you see?

don't worry i can't either

i can't see how great i am
i can't see how other people see me
i wish i could.

i want to believe this was a dream
or
a nightmare at that.

But at last.
I'm here wishing that in another life
i could be with you,
or
maybe in other deaths,

i crave your touch,
i crave you..
with coffee waking up my senses
like a kid in summer waking up early
to go play with his friends.

i wish things were different,
so i wouldn't have to wish.

We just met
No connection that was right off bat
Kisses were ok
But the idea of your hands on me
Only during the night into morning
Keeps my heart beating lightly
Yet slow