RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Last of our memories now sitting alone in a pine box, its lid closed upon the love we once had shared.

Our hearts being hidden in a casket of misery, not being awakened in this environment of a love once had in the past.
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Recalling postscripts upon letters that were sent back and forth while you were in the army, love and passion knowing no bounds.

Preferring though, a transcendental love over any other, for its worth more when held morally true to the the Ten Commandments.
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Rolling down the road, racing and stopping in the happiness of a life that was free and at liberty to do whatever it wanted to do.

A person that gladly reached out, choosing to meet once in a while whenever having a moment in which to feel safe and comfortable.
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Night cloaked in a tenuous darkness where light has no room to coincide at all, seeming to lie beneath the center of the world, playing a game of chance.

Never knowing if life would become a place of substance as we go our own ways in the beauty of a night that has once again passed us by.
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A torrent of wind, now blowing music and its rhythms towards a poetical poet, another occasion of having a little bit of one thing or another.

Making delicacies of chocolate-flavored thoughts that kept falling onto the floor, not able to grasp or hold onto one another's hearts for some reason.
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Listening to someone singing, always being flat no matter what the song may be, slowing the song down, being nothing at all like it used to be sung.

Being silently humiliated in the undertow of rhythms that continue to wash slowly into the shore of melodies that never made it out to sea.
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Softly writing expressions of yesterday as they flow from old rhythms of once upon a time ago.

Repelling thoughts in French as a song genuflects gently before an unseen altar that never was.
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Rumors being spread about, catching ears of those who aren't really living decent lives, hiding they think, in decibels of rhythms while dancing with others throughout the night.

Allowing remarks to drown and fall into sewers all by themselves, nothing more to be said as priorities are being taken in possessions of a non-possibility eroding on its own.
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Waking up in a serene atmosphere that holds the one that's true and kept in a heart of unconditional love, one that will stand the test of time.

Pushing forward in the ebony darkness, pushing wonder and delight, fastening itself to an interior fabric of an honest love that'll last forever in these arms and heart of mine.
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Curiosity, like a cat curled up, waiting to entertain innermost feelings and all their questions as life turns about in search of answers that at times are invisible.

Standing before another, hoping that one day they will be together come the light of day or not, cuddling with endear-
ing words of yours as you whisper them in ears of tomorrow.
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