poetry

I watch them run away from me— “They’ll not come back.” –I know. Can someone help me find the piece That leads me to myself?

After he died everything changed. Us twelve children left fatherless, our bank accounts a total mess, and mother’s cheeks, all tear-streak stained.

I know you hate your smile And try to hide your laugh, But darling, Joy looks good on you.

If only I could turn back time To live forever in the hours when I felt my heart was most alive Lovely eleven to two a.m.