To Love To Live

Those words born within me as I sit and write
By the twilight of a night, just before darkness sets in
In the beautiful twilight memorable light
As in a dream Pablo Neruda's verses, of poems
Under my skin at times, I know not why
I fill in a streak of light my thoughts within
My mind could think not my ideas were draining
The noise impossible to retain the memories lost, lost.
In the open pages, I write what's in my heart
Those that were of my blood like Papa, those that I loved
Once more all by myself writing the words breaking my heart
When I! So alone, could bear not, finding myself lonesome as can be.
By myself so hard so very hard I miss Papa
I know his roots still growing deeply within me.
In the dusty road, I walk forgotten by all
Through the evening road so wet with my thoughts
And am filled with the chorus of the streets
The red flowers of spring
Blossoming young girls so happy
Meanwhile finding myself, not an easy task you see
Where I am where I should be
In a dream's dream know not the answer exactly
But I dream he's waiting for me.
Someone's staring at me as I stand high up on the verandah
Know not who the stranger may be
He's asking me where are you my love!
Am here you know, have always been
How far?
Nearby I'd say.
It's, on the road?
The road could be anywhere near or far
By the bridge way, there's always a bridge over a river.
And the woman that's standing alone as you pass by
There is always she!
It's not so easy thinking of her
Reading you through her!
Am so alone it hurts must admit
Admitting my loneliness painfully
On my way, I must be, writing my words
Wishing you happy birthday my love
With the first rain drops
In my mind, I thought whispering Papa!
Going into my rooms
I was born again
With the words of a poet
To hope to love to live.

                   Connie James.