Poetry Corner – October 2014

Depression

When i am alone
He creeps into my bed
Slips under the sheets and touches me
In all those private, sensitive places
I let no one else in the world ever see
And he makes me weep
Before I drift off to sleep.
As the darkness tucks me in,
And my eyelids flutter against the tide
I reach out with both hands
To see if he’s alive.
The empty bed responds
with a moan and a sigh
that escapes my lips.
He is gone!
And I am alone.
He steals my dreams each night
When into my room he creeps
And steals my dreams in flight
He makes me weep
Before I drift off into sleep.
Before I drift off to sleep.

On Growing Older

Oh, how repetitive that line about time!
Too short they say for any man’s dream
To come to fruition and bask in success
And youth is wasted on the young
Oh, what a mess!
But time is not the test.
The repetitive line we dread is said
By another one who once was young
And now understands the rest.
Time does not exist, only the present
God was not, is not some future thing
but was here along.

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