Poem: New Day

The new way is starting today.

The way things were are no longer how they will be.

The calls will still come, but there will be one less voice to hear.

The voice of the one that used hold your hand and wipe your tears.

The person you never knew who voice is the only one you want to hear.

Now it cannot be it can only be played in your memories.

Soon those will fade away.

Today is a start of a new day.

It is the start of the rest of your days.

Poem: To You

I am writing you the story of you.

A story that I do not know, but that knows you well.

A time where the future meets the past.

Where hope lives outside our dreams.

The one thing that have desire but does not try to please.

This is the story I am writing, a tale that is not real.

A story that is all within, and dreams from rooms across the sea.

This will go down in history, as one would hope.

This is my writing that I am giving you.

A piece that will not make you happy.

It will make the heart do what it does best.

It will beat, but mine will simply stop.

That is the story I want to tell.

Poem: New Walk

Walking the path that holds all the secrets.

Living the dream that you never imagine.

Hunting the roads where cars seldom travel.

Believing the faith that the trees whisper.

Trying to just make it to see another day.

All the way standing with a smile beaming from your face.

That is the life that you want.

This is the journey that you want to take.

Not caring about the hurt that it brings.

Only thinking about seeing another day.

The ones that used to walk with you have fallen off.

Now there are some that are new that hang by your side.

This is your new walk and I like your stride.

Poem: Past/ Future

Where do I turn.

Where do I go.

Where do I look.

The past is creeping up and drawing me nearby.

I want to go, but I know my soul cannot bare it.

The hurt that the past has cause is also the cure for my future.

I try to make a change, but it always leads me there.

Can I make it without it?

The option is not clear.

The option is an open book that I cannot read.

I remember the things that made me hurt.

I also remember the joys of living.

When I think about it, I think about me.

When I think about what could be, I do not see me without it.

I see the people that made me love.

The people that made me whole.

I see the past, I also see that it is my future.