Hourglass

The lessons learned are clearly there for memory to touch; unlikely, though, for one to share; there’s no controlling such. Tomorrow is a puzzle piece embedded in a rhyme; will love and truth renew the lease or die before their time? An hourglass that’s running low will, surely, turn once more… to when and where, in time we'll know; today or days before? ~ Copyright 2004 By: W.D.Neighbors ~

Unfinished

It's not exactly therapy I guess
although these words, I find,
are more than just the way that I express
the storms within my mind.



The poems are a lifetime set to rhyme;
the scripting of a role;
a simple heart attempting to define
a complicated soul.



The poetry is meant to shout above...
more often, though, it sighs
in sweetly whispered welcomes to a love
or bittersweet goodbyes.



The verses sail the seas of age and youth...
they wander where they will.
The poems wrote the poet and, in truth,
they're working on him still.