I went to fill my glass

With water

(In a moment of a sigh)

 

the glass

slips out of my hand

(and hits and floor)

 

broken glass

is everywhere

(on the linoleum floor)

 

I stoop over to pick up

The broken pieces

As a tear falls from my eye

 

Why is picking up the pieces

 

Always so hard

 

To do

 

And my tears are no different

From the spilled water on the floor

When I was young

I wrote poetry for my ego

– always about me and my miseries

 

When I matured

I wrote poetry for humanity

– speaking of love, experience and human needs

 

Now I am aged

I write poetry for necessity

– recording little things that have made me

Deep endless flows

From a place

Long forgotten

I am one without

A soul

Just anguish that’s left hidden

 

I am neither deep nor wide

I am ill defined

I am one’s old discarded good-bye

The one with no wants or will

No warmth or chills

I am stagnant in this place

 

And once a goodbye is said and done

Discarded to a sordid place

Neither heaven’s gate or hell’s fiery

Give my thoughts any resting-place

 

 

 

Today my daughter

            Lost that shine

Those wide gleaming eager eyes

 

That glistening shine

            Of childhood

That shows no fear, no lies

 

Today that shine

            Is dull and dim

And I can not explain why

 

Today my daughter

            Lost that shine

And a mother’s heart cries