Through A Page Dimly

It may take

a book to see

how lofty I

tend to be.

Could I ever

even see it then

as my life

spills from a pen?

Shall I write

myself amongst stars?

Above the fray,

fast past all the scars?

I can surprise

myself how so easy

the little things

serve to please me.

How if I did not

easily I’d forget

clarity on pages

or how I’ve wept.

Blackness is all

around in here.

On this page now,

I now shed a tear.

Could I rhyme

each time every line?

Could I find

moments I was blind?

Maybe I could,

Maybe I would.

Does not mean

that I should.

But wounds beckon

outside they awaken

from the paths that I

did or never have taken.

3 Comments Add yours

  1. rothpoetry says:

    Yes pains of the past do become more real when put down on paper! Great Poem.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much dear Sir.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. rothpoetry says:

        You are welcome. You don’t have to call me sir. Dwight is good enough! Thanks.

        Liked by 1 person

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