from time to time
I reminisce
o’er lines
I never wrote
truths I dared not share
tho no less true
longing spilled to pages
meant for gentle eyes –
an open heart
with space enough
for two

worthless rhyme
you know me now –
with nothing
left to say
poems stacked in boxes
cupboards tight
love betrayed to silence
grieves the dying word –
an empty page
and evermore
to write

. . .