Treasure Island

Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

Nine Lives Aren't Enough


I have stumbled and walked blindly through this life
and what is less than that to love it even more.
To create more tears in laughter than sad tears.
There is no room for ghosts no room for death no room for doubt
in faith for those sad years.
Never so indifferent, I look up to to see the twinkle in the skies.
The stars and how they wonder in the eyes of each lost child.
Or as the old should never be, growing old does not suit me.
You may have heard my last words as I whisper, Dear.
To you I leave my one last smile, when you smiled at me.

Submitted: Wednesday, July 02, 2014

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Topic(s): green

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