My Song

I’ll often sketch upon this page
Life-stories that are seldom heard:
The man whose love is labor mute,
The girl whose thinks her life absurd

The woman, poised upon the brink
Of making her own life, her own;
The lovers, deep in ecstasy,
The broker, smug upon his throne

The family people, everywhere,
Who want to leave a loving way,
And give their kids all that they have
And never take where they don’t pay

The givers and the seekers and
The man out waiting for the bus;
The visions that may come at night,
The emptiness in all of us

For where the ocean meets the sky
My eye will linger, soft and long,
And my heart pen, upon the clouds,
The last few notes I hear
Of life’s sweet

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