This mask I wear to hide my pain,
cannot bring me love again.
If I had ever been aware
of the disasters that brought despair,
I’d have finished the day with baited breath,
awaiting the finality of death.
Nothing in my life adored,
can save me from deaths final sword.
But, if Hope can bring life again.
Then hope, my heart will retain.
But short lived if not fanned high,
For the word has no meaning
If not held high.
For short, my mind bereft,
I stand here taking every breath.
I am nothing if not a gentleman,
Yet I am alone, and stand without
the heartache of a love forlorn.
D.p.d. 2018