It was a cold winter morning
With nothing but white to see
It was a time for reflection
I had nothing except my creativity
So armed with pen and paper
I started to confront my destiny.
Too often in life we ignore
Those few who mean us well
Many times we simply turn away
Ending up within our own hell
The process is slow, nothings written
So I started. The strokes fell.
After I wrote a few letters
The words just started to flow
I suddenly was thinking of you
Finally my heart was letting go
Of what I held deep within
I will now share what’s known.
I was healing now very slowly
Sharing what I concealed in past
This piece does indeed mark you
But the die had been cast
You’re in the arms of another
I truly ended up finishing last.
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