Writing isn’t 
about being 
famous at
least for 
me it 
has always 
been about 
giving a
voice to 
the unheard 

Of all 
of time 
when I 
might feel 
lonely it’s 
now between 
the darkest 
of night 
and dawn 
for nothing 
stirs besides 
one’s very
own dreams 
and you 
being mine 
upon which 
I look

In the distance 
a train whistles
a deep tune 
warning of coming 
reminding of going 
always the same 
that distant sound
far off somewhere 
near somewhere else 
is that you 
too that whistle 

Today would’ve been 
forty years together 
but people change 
whether by death 
or time or 
distance they do 
I never miss 
for I’m blessed 
to have had
you for as
long as I 
did and that 
made me today 

The impression remains 
like a footprint 
in the snow 
like a giggle 
it simply lingers 
no longer warm 
but reminding warmth 
that it is
always welcome to 
return for its 
place still does