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Local Focus – Global Reach

In the morning hours,
sitting, with pen in hand,
words pouring forth
like mental sand.
Falling to paper,
inscribed with ink,
only I know what I think.
My mind is filled,
with words galore,
pouring out through an open door,
for my hand is starting to hurt,
as I sift through the sandy dirt.

I have a problem, that I now see.
That little problem, I believe is me.
When life has changed; gone amok.
If everything you touch is just bad luck.
It is hard to control my mentality.
To remain positive taking care of thee.
I need some time of my own, that I see.
A time that will revive and refresh,
So I regain a better looking reality.

I do remember.
It's been awhile,
The sound of laughter,
That crooked smile.
The eyes so brown,
The dark, long hair,
The girlish figure,
You had no waist.
Walking fast,
Not like now,
When steps do falter
And then somehow,
You stop to rest,
As aches and pain,
Stops you from
Walking fast again.
I love you so,
Even with your mind
No longer there
And words that come
Are of great despair.
What will I do
When your are gone
And I, no longer
Hear our own love song.

The light of day
made it's way
across the dewy grass.
The shadows of darkness
were like shiny glass.
Flowers were tightly closed
awaiting the morning Sun,
while Bees began their flight,
a journey yet to come.
As the dew began to dry
when Nature's morning try
was, once again, on the move
in a repetitious manner
of colors to peruse.

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