A Part Apart
I carry on playing my part
though I know you will not come again.
They are parts of my life and can be so strange.
I carry on playing my part.
You know I do and I know that you know.
Even my art seems never to draw you.
You know that words bring such peace to my art.
Yet what do you wish to hear?
I have only words but they're such
a great part of my art, yet merely that part.
I carry on making my art.
It is part of my playing my part.
Poems and prose are such parts of that art.
So why is my heart being pulled apart?
(written 28 Sep 2025)
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