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The words are so many,
I write down a few.
How do I capture them,
When I think of you?
Words appear in a mass
of those I must undo,
to capture all the meaning.
It's what Poets will do.
Writing of words, over time,
searching for one or two,
finding words which will rhyme.
Words pouring out, so quickly,
those sublime, one more time.
Writings will fade, after ink
becomes old, with paper brittle,
thoughts now forgotten, they sink.
No one reads; very little
as I say now to you,
no matter the day it's
here now for my friend, you.

#sunset

On a cold and beautiful December day

A rendezvous,
a short embrace,
another glimpse
of your face.
A mysterious look
in those eyes,
wasn't a guess
but a surmise.
Cut in half,
not a whole,
you have now
touched my soul.
A lost love
from long ago,
came from above.
Love is so
about the giving.
All I know.

I tire now.
My hand has a cramp
for writing these words,
has extinguished my lamp.

www.arrestinglight.com
www.facebook.com/VadymGraiferPhotography 

The choice of a word,
when there is a breeze,
makes all the difference,
if your wish is to please.

Here I am now,
I cannot foresee
what will happen
to an oldster like me.

I wanted to caress
her aching heart,
with many a hug,
would be my part,
but separation of 6 feet,
makes it difficult to do,
so a virtual hug
comes from my heart to you.

If what I write
or what I say
will make a difference,
when on your way,
I will, then rejoice
on this beautiful day.
I made a difference
and there it will stay.

There is a strange calmness, to me.
I grow depressed, thinking of thee,
Except at night, when we are alone,
Realizing your with me and at home.