This poem is about making a choice and dealing with the consequences.

I consider poetry to be the soul of literature and the quint-essence of creativity.

When one is tired one must rest.

Part one of four.

We can’t make it here, we might maybe it in skies, making stars our witness.

A poem of longing.

Some “mothers” do have them…

Written for the warm rays the sun offers. How it makes me feel when it caresses me.

What else would you call it?

Love Notes is a depressed love poem.