One time
in the middle
of the summertime,
I would hear a voice,
a soft internal kind,
could tell me
everything I ever wanted to know
about you,
like a steady chime on an
antique grandfather’s clock,
I could count on the numbers
the many times
when she would come to mind,
my feelings,
emotions,
I would then feel the charge of her
sweet remedy
to fill the empty spaces
in my mind.
I wish I knew how to find those times.
© Scott F Savage 2019
Silent rise remind
We did many mourn incline
sweet love we decline
 | a quiet man on Haiku Love |
 | Yernasia Quorelios on Haiku Love |
| a quiet man on I Took A Walk |
 | Priti on I Took A Walk |
| Priti on I Took A Walk |
Turning trauma into triumph since 1981.
Sometimes writing poems let's me forget about the huge sums of debt I'm accumulating while at college
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