With time,
the beginning gets close to the end
With time,
I no longer need to pretend
With time,
the feelings now stand on their own
With time,
the reasons are best left alone
With time,
the music alone mine to play
With time,
the words free to go or to stay
With time,
the memories no longer a wish
With time,
all longing wrapped up in one kiss
With time,
I revisit those things I thought lost
With time,
I re-ember the long winter frost
With time,
I let go of the doubt and the fear
With time I embrace
—as your voice calls me near
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
Most Often Missed
Some things are unknowable as they are,
and need an alias to come true
Some people only known through someone else,
and you must look hard to see through
Not in hiding, but contained within,
symbiotic they exist
To live and die within something else
—a thing most often missed
(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)
Wings To My Flight
A quarter of a million people
read my poetry last year
Five hundred thousand eyes,
five hundred thousand ears
I write every day with the
humble knowledge of this
To offer some solace,
to be never remiss
They guide me much more
than they ever will know
To help form the words
that keep me in tow
I feel like I know them
when I write late at night
As they call through the darkness
—giving wings to my flight
(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: May, 2019)