One more time,
I wanted to write,
To pen the words;
Give then flight.
Through the past,
I began to seek,
Poems of yesteryear,
For only a peek.
To give myself,
A reason to find,
Words from a heart,
Far too kind.
“Too Many Secrets”,
Had been my best,
But others had said,
It paled to the rest.
“Paper in the Breeze”,
Wasn’t all that bad,
But nobody who read it,
Knew I was sad.
“Fate” was written,
Without enough time,
Too bad no one saw it,
Come “Without Rhyme”.
Poems that had been,
Lost long ago,
Foretold the coming,
Of mightier foes.
From minds overtaken,
To hearts torn asunder,
This writer’s block;
Turned to thunder.
One more time,
I wanted to fight,
To sit down again;
Shed some light.