reveille

The sun comes out. Dreams
evaporate.

All we are left with
is our

selves, our
miserable lives.

þ
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Beautiful imagery = Ben
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Ain't it the truth! Our miserable sevles and God, whoever He is that created us. This is my chance to thank Ann Cantelow for this site and to bless the poets who contribute. When I feel like the above poem and have noone that I feel cares about me, I come to this site. Not knowing any of these people, I still connect with their fine fine words like the ones in this poem above. Hermestri, Fallon, p ( can't make the sign but you above)
Audee, so many more of your, that I'm not mentioning, all of you, in fact, even the evil anons who critcize and make hurtful remarks are like family to me in the sense that coming here I truly am eased of my temporary self pity and loneliness.
sg