Paperback Writer

Weary, roughened, and forlorn,
I'm a paperback writer,
who tells stories,
of people, places and towns.

Presupposed thoughts
permeate my mind,
threading through the lives
of real people and their times.

The story evolves
from beginning, middle, to the end;
With crescendos of emotions
peaking high and low.

She picks me up gently
and leafs through my pages;
The edges are bent
from bookmarks left behind.

The cover is faded.
I am slammed shut
while she sleeps;
Her mind filled with all of my thoughts.

Morning has broken
I am picked up again

and read;

Minds are stirred. 

When the book is done,
I'm just a pile on the shelf. 
just a paragraph

in other peoples lives.

Jeddah

Apr 23, 2017

My Illusion

I saw her peeping 
through a sprinkling of rain
seemed so far away,
she was untouched; 
She danced for me
through a screen
so voluptuously;
A fleeting feline
stalking through the leaves,
I look around
and she's there waiting; 
I beckon her
and she comes forth
displaying her finery;
Arms stretch out
in a tight warm hug
that seems never ending;
Illusions can be beautiful
when they stay
in your mind;
The air is filled with laughter
it will always be that way
as long as she stays;
I keep walking
along the road
until I get to my pot of gold;
Where I hope
she will be waiting
for me;
To dance again
in the rain.