i gave up too soon

I was making it

My dream

was working

I had mojo then

wanting to live from poems

that came endlessly

I bet my early years on writing

Saw many reading and buying

the books in bookstores, card shops

and college stores

Letters arrived almost daily

sharing poems and including photos

Ten books in stores

and more waiting to publish

then sales slowed

Reality knocked

for rent, gasoline

car repairs

and food

When I began my dream

life was easy

and affordable

I was to surviving

Then someone changed the

life’s price tag . . .

I had to work

and  put my dreams on hold

Recently I opened

forgotten boxes of poems

in my attic

For days I look at the sky

and clouds like I used to

wondering

can I become excited again

I didn’t see my dreams

in the sky anymore

 

I should have listened to you then

how was I to know

that one day I would call you on the phone

and you would no longer answer?

 

 

 

you were always there

to talk with

to visit

how was I to know that your time

here was about to end?

 

 

If I could do it over

I would take time to talk each day

I would withhold words

that were not so kind and gentle

 

 

but I was self-centered

and missed times we should

have enjoyed

 

 

how I

miss you

 

 

I will

always miss you

 

i am someone who listens

Thanks for dropping by

Don’t give up

your dreams

I put dreams in the attic

and they are still there

My dream was to be a poet

living from my poetry

and I did for awhile

it’s been years

here is the good news. . .

I’m picking up my

pen and

beginning again

hang in with me

I have lots to share

.

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