There was an hour where I let fear,
whisper loudly in my ear,
it was a darker, sadder time,
a time when I was out of rhyme.
Many things had come to pass,
causing me to lose my gas,
leaving me alone and cold,
losing all my strength and bold.
But then, a draft through windows came,
It gave me strength to live again,
it was a voice, a human being,
(had been deprived of just such a thing)
To me, it spoke quite sternly too,
but love was all that did come through,
I heard the message it had to say,
(Would not have processed it any other way.)
For, far too groggy I’d become,
could not be reached by anyone,
had closed myself off to all around,
until your words before me did sound.
From there, it’s every fairytale,
nothing too rare, but the getting there.
Yet, the things that I have seen
from then to now, and In-between,
are what divides this from the common,
i could tell you, but you wouldn’t buy them.
The tale is long, have you the time?
It yet continues, and stays in rhyme,
I then shall recant to you,
the miricles that I’ve been through,
but understand that it is long,
and the draft is winding as it reads along.
Well my friends, it was like this,
(Again, I beg your tolerance)
it’s difficult to now recant with clarity
and have it be tight with accuracy.
It also is entwined with fantasy, and
thrown in too with thoughts of him,
so dreamlike, it at times, may seem,
but this adds to the storylike quality.
I was down, believed for the count,
Had faith back then that my death had begun.
My child was grown, he had left from the nest,
but I still had my words to house and protect.
If I indeed must take that one final journey,
right at a time when my mind was so blurry,
God must know best, I would do as he wished,
but I felt unaccomplished, unspoken, and not old.
I vowed then to write down all the verbiage of me, from my teens to that present, they could live on beyond me.
I typed up some rhymes for a book of poetry, just a drop in the bucket, but at least ’twas a piece.
And so, all my darlings who have now gathered ’round, You now know the beginning, and on it I’ll expound,
but, perhaps you grow tired of listening for now, so stop by again for our little storyhour.