A Different Me.

A Different Me

Oh Poetry poetry set me free for I owe you a different me,
I owe you my mind my very soul,
I owe you my kindness that I do not own.
You owe me my loneliness my sleepless nights .,
Me I owe my peace of mind.
My minds in turmoil most of the time,
I need peace, that comes from within my sleepless nights.
My sleepless nights for your not there,
But sitting beneath the bridge wondering somewhere.
The streets at night are calling to you as you go roaming right through.
I hear the door in the middle night at the clock I look surreptitiously.
As you come home drunkenly, with words spilling out,
Reciting your verses of poetry.
Whilst I've been waiting for you, longing for the touch that only you know, how.
As you come by, the house you in perpetual moodiness sullenly,
I like you not this way.
By the river side, I cried...I cried with loneliness,
But that that pain within me ambiguously crucifying me.
The boat coming by my way, whispering I asked had he seen you by the way.
All night you were.Don't you know
But when I asked why you had no answer for me, but said c'est la vie"
But Babu, give me an answer won't you
In darkness, I seem to be all my life as I walk about through the night,
Dawning  approaching coming into light, there's no feeling like
Seeing the rising of the sun over that mountain high beneath hill the waterfall.
As I look at the beauty before my eyes
The colours of Autumn filling one's eyes, the trees laden in dew,
The grass, my eyes tears forming dew like in my eyes,
The memories that kiss, when I kissed you, you were so cold wet with dew,
Your face had that tinge of blue your lips your nose so cold  your hands like ice
I rubbed my hands on you, just to warm you.
The dinghy that was at anchor on the shoreline as you sat down,
The boatman getting drunk all the time.
But your drunkenness, were in words in perpetual motion all the time.
Like poetry,
O Poetry I owe you my world my reason for living my dying my freedom my life.
My tears falling silently the words I can tell not anybody.
The stranger I feel is within me,
I feel so lonely can't you see.
O Poetry I owe you the feeling I know not.
Of being born.
And my love my love of finding him, just to loose yet again..
O Poetry,
Poetry I owe you a different me !!

                                         By Connie James...