Hi, I’m the me you can’t see.
I’m the me that’s stuck in me.
The other me is the me you see.
That’s not the me that’s this me.
I know it’s hard to see,
this me that’s the real me.
Is the real me the me you see,
or the stuck me waiting to be free.
That’s the me you don’t see.
The other me too doesn’t see me.
That me thinks they’re all to see.
That me doesn’t know me.
Other than me the other me is free.
The other me speaks the words of we.
The words of me are only to see,
words of me that set me free.
Lovely is she who walks with me.
We’ve days of joy and nights by the sea
The pasts costly, the now is to be.
Life’s grand when love is free.
I wrote this poem while driving,
forgive me for the bumps.
The roads behind were rocky,
we’ve all had our lumps.
This journey now is smoother,
more powerful every day.
Our path’s coasting forward,
surely it’s the way.
I tried to force a poem today.
But poetry doesn’t work that way.
Seems all my words are kept at bay.
Thoughts simply sculpt what hearts convey.
With wheels unturned can’t play with clay.
That doesn’t mean my mood’s cold and gray.
Or that my feelings for you have gone astray.
Flourishes flounder, neigh to stay.
Gladly “I love you” I can always say.
Sunsets holding you
Sunrises holding me
Time feeling time’s feeling free
Time’s feeling we are we
Free is what we all want to be.
A future’s what we want to see.
Imagination’s what we want it to be.
Dreams are what we choose to see.
Reality is what happens to be.
We are what is our reality.