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Posted by MFish

In the morning hours,
sitting, with pen in hand,
words pouring forth
like mental sand.
Falling to paper,
inscribed with ink,
only I know what I think.
My mind is filled,
with words galore,
pouring out through an open door,
for my hand is starting to hurt,
as I sift through the sandy dirt.

I know not what I write,
I know not at all.
The words that pour out
are not mine I write,
for there seem to be no
thought in my mind,
other than writing the words.
Hopefully they're not trite
but have meaning to you,
it's for you that I care,
no matter the issue,
no matter the time,
my wish for you
is Peace and be kind.

Laying in bed, words all of jumble;
I'm not writing them down,
for I will not tumble,
into this pit of worry
or feeling sorry for me.
Oh dear God, help me out of this mess
of seeing my beloved, slipping away.
What can I do, on this miserable day?
My love for her is still there;
She knows me not, I'll not despair,
for I know her and always will.
My love for her gives me a thrill.
I know these words, corny they are,
but they're my words, they surely are.

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