MY POEMS

Broken Dreams

The bird lies dead
it's bright yellow feathers
rustle in the wind
stopped cold by an invisible barrier.
Dreams shatter
instead of windows

Why

i always thought
i had all the time
in the world
i thought
you would be here
forever
but now you're gone
and i ask myself
why did i wait
so long
why

What Could Have Been

sometimes
I reflect on
the past
and I think about
what might have happened
what could have been
If only
I had been more daring, knowledgable, or
reserved
If only
things had been
different
but I know I must
live in the present
and not think too
much about
what could have been

Reality

reality
is a subjective thing
it all depends
on what you
believe, what you
take on faith
So that we are all
in a fundamental and
unequivocal way,
alone
In our own private
realities

Morning

The hazy sky, so like
my sleepfogged brain
The man in
the moon, still hanging
high up amid
the wispy clouds, looks down
upon me with his eternally
luminescent face, and he is
puzzled
Why, he asks, are you up
at such an ungodly hour?
Must. . .get. . .to
. . .school

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