Free to live

In all my years, I've never really truly given up hope that one day I'd be married, successful, have my own kids, and leave a lasting mark on the world.

In springtime, every flow'r believes its beauty is unending. In the autumn, every leaf reveals its shade of color, too. In the winter, snow is glistening in its brilliance without equal. In the summertime it's our turn to announce ourselves to you. We are the seekers and the wonderers. We wander to and fro. Our desire never quenched by all our unforgotten woe. We continue ever onward, as we dance, or skip, or twist. Every ending leaves us hopeful for the next thing on our list. If you see us, you may recognize a look we tend to share that says either, "Wait and see where I am going," or, "I'll take you there!"

Could it really be that all of this was for nothing? We both learned so much. I felt like I was never enough. You felt like I was just too much.But that's it. It's over. And now here I am, starting over yet again.

Call me a cliche, and I'll agree, but this meant simply everything to me.

We had our good times, and they left me speechless. I only wish I could have shown you what you mean to me.

We'll both move on, have other loves, and though I'm gone, I'm still thinking of you

So, what next? Do I keep on loving you? I can't just forget. I can't help the feeling I'm not finished with you yet, but we both turned around, said goodbye, and walked away. We're both moving on, getting stronger every day. 

My Messy Room In Rhyming Verse (Trust me, it gets even worse)

The trash if full, but the can is small
I'd like a can that's rather tall
Some clothes are on my bed, and while
They're folded, still I feel that I'll
Just have to tell you that, well, um
A plate is on them, and a crumb
Is sitting on that plate and staring
At me as I'm just preparing
To tell you of the towels, or
The rest of my clothes strewn across the floor
The dirty ones have made the hamper
So, Hurrah! And yet a damper
On my victory, for look
I seem to see a dirty sock
That somehow missed its intended target
And, how did it get so far? Get
Back into the hamper, sock
And no longer my vict'ry mock
But even the hamper sits out of place
Right in the middle of my "open space"
And next to it, more clothes to fold
This talk of clothes is getting old.
Let's move along now, if you will,
To all the junk on my window sill.
See, I don't have a bedside table,
And when I'm tired, I don't feel able
To put a thing where it belongs
I simply place it among the throngs
Of fingernail clippers and backup glasses
Cups, and scissors, let's look past this.
But before we look too far,
We'll come across the first guitar.
I say the first, because yes, they're two,
The instruments that stare at you
As you stare blankly from the door,
Just wondering, "Could there be more?"
"Of course there can!" comes the reply,
"There's lots to go in this pig sty."
The closet I will cover quickly:
Boxes, books, and shirts. Ignore the
Second bag of trash you see
And if you'd focus here on me,
I'd like to show my work of art,
A desk that's but half took apart.
A record player without its speakers
Pens and pencils, piles of sneakers
A skateboard, leaned against a chair
But no one will be sitting there
For on it lies a paper sack
Two sweaters--no, three! Suspenders (black)
And even more, the mess goes on
A box of books from Amazon
A heating pad, for my back's easing
(or perhaps for when it's freezing)
And to keep the place all classy
Original artwork by Kate Massey

There's more I haven't yet recounted
But the length of this account did
Prove to be an inspiration:
Perhaps I'll clean my habitation.