Make your own free website on
Poem 3
back to main poem page                                

                                        "To what may be upon us"

                   For the first time I have ponder to see what distinct nature of; caring you have given. To what ways I had fell into an enchantment of the birds, to silent myself, and to only hear that name of yours. The birds to sing a sweet song with a melody at which I sit aside; and wonder what the next note of their musical course will be. To only have the dead of silence; and the warmness of the light above, which shines to only leave me breathless, at which one could not described. But for the sight of you gave this feeling as to why, I’m drawn to you.

                  To this what I feel inside to be mellow; and also of the times that I had looked into your eyes. As to give a thought to myself of who is this stranger that fascinates me; with to only interrupt my jesters and humor with the ones I grew up with. As to only pause for the brief seconds that I hopefully had; before I had to be snapped out of a dream. That continually acts of which to remember that it was a good night as which to signal me that this sight of you is also good; those circles in which your pupils gave me a switch of memorization. To only visualize your face; at which it gave a glow to anyone who had passed by you.

                  To deliver a grin to them, I remember the little things of we had use to talk about. My silence always interrupts to only think of the song that I had heard when the birds had sung it, in which this day I saw only this message occurred to me to seek myself to be bestowed at the sight of you. The sweet smell of your hair I still craze to know that you are somewhere close by; the road of misfortune has lead me to the greatest aspects of my life. To only see others be forth me who have still not change there ways. To my conclusions I know to learn; to care of another.

                  At which if they cry I cry with them; to only feel there pain, makes me stronger, to only hear the words of others making such remarks of me only makes me smarter. To see the sight of you has given me sadness, for which what I had done to you long ago. I truly feel the dirt of this earth and to be obliterated of existence, to say sorry does not make up for my mistakes. But to write gives respect for others, and myself. For my shadow will not stay any longer in the corner of a dark room; I seek to come out of this cell and fight back the elements which wish to destroy me.