To You (pg 16)
To You, I would give my eyes.
Now behold what I see in you;
An angel in disguise.
To You, I would lend my heart.
Its warmth you feel is a kindled love
In a fire you did start.
To you, I would open my mind.
Reveal the thoughts I have of you;
Pleasant, gentle, and kind.
To You, I would expose my very soul.
Discover its secrets and share with me
All the love for you I hold.
A Note To My Sun (pg 29)
My sun, where has thou traveled?
For in your absence, many a moment you've missed.
Your brother returned last eve, though weary from his flight.
I candidly remarked how his gray suit paled
In contrast to the bright attire in which you left.
Your sisters gathered round him upstairs,
Silently delighting in his company.
They dared not disturb Mother though,
For she was quietly resting below them.
Hectic was the day she spent running in circles,
So retired early after your departure.
Though your brother had not much to say,
We quietly strolled together along the garden.
I saw how he beamed over the flowers
That you and Mother had so carefully tended.
While your paths so seldom cross,
I wished that we all might be together,
Yet I know, upon your return, he will have departed.
The Poe M (pg 50)
With never the chance of meeting, I informally formed a greeting,
When unrest besieged my soul and upon my face did show.
Thus, I quoted, quill in hand, "Shall I find words so grand,
As that of just one man; the man, Edgar Allan Poe?
Alas," I lamented, "Never as grand as mister Poe-
Only he, and he I'll never know."
As I recall, twas late July, not night, but morning drawing nigh,
And I sat with great discomfort, beneath a humming neon glow,
My words strained to rhyme, under this dim light of lime,
As I begged borrow time; time with Edgar Allan Poe.
"Yes," thought I, "just a simple chat with mister Poe-
But no. For he, I'll never know."
Attempting once more to write, my eyes weary from pallid light,
My spirit cried unto me, of an impending doom and woe.
"If I could just begin," to myself, said I again,
"To find prophetic words within, like Edgar Allan Poe.
Perhaps;if I could only share a moment with mister Poe-
Yet how? For he, I'll never know."
(Dedicated in memory and with the utmost respect, for a man with
incredible talent and vision. Edgar Allan Poe, 1809-1849)
The pages listed above, are in order of priority