Posted in Poems


We met within the writer’s world
A club for those with minds
I told her I hated chocolate swirls
At least that was the case at the time
I loved to spin those stories
Oh, the things I’d do and say
Because the soul had something secret
A secret born on the thirty-first day
Don’t me ask why I did it
The crazy mishap that I had wrought
I suppose I couldn’t help it
I suppose, or so I thought
If there were a book with numbers
Pages that told the time
I guess I’d be so happy
Knowing I’d be the first in line
For the thing that might have happened
The thing I once had done
Could not, would not be a past reference
It’s something I’d done in the long run
What happened has not happened
Not yet, but you will see
The reality that you once knew
Is not what you believe


I'm a writer, filmmaker, and Human. I think...

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