PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

found only to those true to time,

with windswept hair that

smells like sunshine,

in heavy rains and chilly air 

breath forming frosted patterns there, 

long green rivers and dappled grass, 

trees that quiver, 

leaves falling fast.

I've camped beneath the open sky, 

under the stars and moon that rise,

I've seen far shores and a distant tide

that swept along the waterline,

Filling up the great divide

Separating the wandering heart

from false starts and 

catastrophies.

And yet it's just not quite the same.

I feel bereft, but cannot lay

The blame on any single thing.

It's just my soul that does not sing 

nor set my mind aflame 

the way it did before. 

Creativity is a chore and I find 

I cannot understand

Why the soft, wet sand 

Beneath my feet doesn't feel

the same, my wounds have 

healed. And while I kneel 

here on the shore, I realize you have 

so much more to teach me, 

so much more to show, 

and I love you more

than you could ever know.

So I'll be home soon,

with photographs and souvenirs

of full moons and exotic beers.

Please know, my love, I am sincere, 

and on my way.

I'll be there any day.