The Poem I Can Not Write
Helpless I watch the last of you and me
Break apart like shingle beside the sea.
I knew we would reach the crossroads, the end;
The painful period we can not amend.
Now that I think of me running around
Times when my spirit soared sky-high, bliss-bound
My eyes on the stars and on your sweet smile;
The fool you always wanted to beguile.
And when you smile and speak those lies to me,
Too bad I was not wise enough to see
That you are the flower too fair for touch.
Though in retrospect, I had given much
Somehow I know, as you walk out of sight;
I know you are the poem I can not write.
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