Yesterday

Yesterday I was confronted of being cold, of being depressing in a descriptions of wrongs that need be made right, I offered an apology I know she was right, she hit with a point of beauty, a point of pride reflected in passions of my works, she with but a sentence stopped me upon my day.

 

Yesterday I found some to be of good intentions, but moral directions were not shared, I was hoping for a dream, as an artist a dream, to be remembered like Voltaire or of Jonathon Swift, to author words worthy enough to last a stand of time. To smith a story, a poem, a pose where I use your imagination to color a night sky.

 

The did I set all the day long, listening to what was said, a friend said of me to find love, to find a point of pride, the other said I care not.

 

My reply, love is like business it is built upon a courtship, valued for each step, if I wonder down a road  I am blind but there is reason in my step, if we wonder down this road together I am not as blind.

 

Shame verse encouragement becomes apparent.

 

As for the smith of a word set, they only need be repeated.

 

Thank you.