One at a Time

dedicated to people who have no idea what to write or say, who to love or hold, or even who they are or want to be...

He started to type that "he started to type"
just to have something on the page
In time, the words came
and ideas crept in

one line at a time

Was it a love sonet?
would he write about some imagined woman?
or why he feels so alone without her
or how her skin feels against the fingers of his mind?

one heartbeat at a time

Could it be rage that stains the page
frustration flowing freely into form
"Why does this life have to be
so completely frustrating for me?"

one desperate scream at a time

She's been gone forever it seems
surely he could put the feeling into words
does a dictionary contain the pain
of someone ripping half of you to pieces

one tear at a time

he calms the death grip on the pen
relaxes the muscles in his hand
reaches for the familiar bottle
lifts it to his lips.... then stops

one day at a time

the writing helps dispel the images
of the better days long gone
he curses and swears "never again!"
as each one flashes on the screen inside his mind

one memory at a time

as he lays his pen to the desk
he sits up straight and reads
somewhat satisfied that he knows what he means
yet still has no idea of what he really needs

one poem at a time

slowly he shuffles to the window
and waits patiently for the rain to ruin another perfect view
and whispers to no one there...

one at a time...

June 15, 2005