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Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Some Children Have Nightmares (tentative title)

Night Train

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wandering the rolling hills ...(written for his model)



All The Changing....

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two out of three people

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Collection of Disorganized Thinking on a Cold November Day

what prompts me today
certainly not the empty page
I feel a sort of weariness
I feel the aches of age


its not that I have lived too long
its that perhaps I have not lived well enough
squandered time and philandered opportunity
a missed diamond in the rough


so what if the world does not notice me
so what if my words are never read
and with my death comes final obscurity
and only silence ringing in its stead


somewhere a part of the world
will know that I have been here
even if it is a dust mote or kind word
I will have marked this sphere


for when a being passes on
it has always been my belief
the world forever instantly changes
then mourns each passing with a singular sigh
of grief.




Copyright November 5, 2012. All Rights are Reserved by this Author
Melissa A Howells Meloo from her Tilt-a-World






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Collection of Disorganized Thinking on a Cold November Day


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