My eyes close out my chaos
The lady returns to my world
Still a stranger but she knows me best
The distance between us disappears
My mind feels her touch
Satin fingers caress my shoulders
Nerve endings get awoken
Her hands comfort my inner solitude
A whisper is mentally spoken
She speaks to my eyes alone
Her words yearn for my embrace
She too reflects such wants
My lips are cold
They await her smoulder
My creativity has her near me now
Dream this damsel
My darkness is enlightened by her smile
This woman has connected with me again
I open my eyes to a barren life
But, I know that this lady exists and I will find her to complete our love
I’m sitting here looking at a recent notification on my blog. I’ve officially written one hundred pieces on it. To some, this is a drop in the bucket. But, to me it means so much more. The inner writer that has struggled to return for many years after he stopped back in high school-is back. Everyone here in this community of writers, knows that there is nothing more exhilarating than making your ideas into a tangible piece that can be savored by another.
Part of my recent “resurrection” back into writing has been in meeting a certain poet that inspired me to start again. I’m not going to embarrass her here, but I will be eternally grateful for her presence in my life. She always refutes my gratitude claiming she did nothing, but that couldn’t be any further from what I feel.
I’ve enjoyed my time here in this community and will continue to contribute whatever ideas pop into my head.
Thanks for listening, dear reader.
-John Freda (August,2018)
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