Poetry

*While I'm Writing*

I see letters become words on a crisp sheet of paper.

The sound of my pen on paper gliding across the page become the only sound I hear.

A smell of paper and ink drift to my nose. Im sent back to many memories of ideas coming to life.

Rich Columbian coffee trickles down my throat.

The rubber gripper on a fancy blue pen feels soft and comforting.

(January 18/2011)

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*~January~*

A white feild.

Impatient promises.

Sleeping still.

(January,21.2011)

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Around us is snow.

It twinkles and glows.

Over yander the sun trys to show.

(January,26/2011)

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I will help you with open arms.

My hope for you is no more harm.

My time is mine but can be yours.

To me this help for you is no chore.

(March 22, 2011)
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LONGING

Its there in the night.

Its there in the early morning.

During the day, when the time ticks away.

My mind achs,

My soul hungers.

My body LONGS.

Please....