Words Without Meaning

Words without meaning,
written for you to read,
They rhyme, but then again it’s forced,
like a line that ends in seed.

All this to catch your eye,
will I catch it? We shall see.
But your brain knows better,
The words are fruitless without depth.

A real poem is a touchstone to your soul,
a portal to the place in your mind you wish to know.
Do you go there often?
I can show you the way…

We start with childhood and seasons like spring,
We continue with innocence,
and places most vulnerable.
Are we there yet?

The death of your sister,
the sickness of your mother,
a time of suffering…
and of grief.

Finally we arrive at the you you,
the one with the heart,
which has hurt, and bled.
Have I touched you yet?

Your goals and dreams,
Your family your friends,

Warmth and togetherness,

Have you raised your kids with grace?

The leaves turning brown,

other visions without sound,
and suddenly to a late fall day,
and the setting of the sun.

Did you just consider your own death?

That’s what I was going for,

Perhaps I missed the mark,

But somehow I don’t think so.

I am a poem,
Read me and you’ll know you have a heart,
don’t worry it’s still there.

Beating, living, waiting for a great poem…

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