I sit here at this table by the window. I wonder what to write. Another busy day today. Painfully out of sight. I wish to be so found, so desired, as to be the object of such constant praise but at the same time, no, I wish to slink back into the shadows and watch them all walk by. To be apart from it all. How does one reconcile these alternate desires? Someday I’d like to be the one that knows. Please enjoy the poem today, friends. I wrote it just for you.
Table by the Window
Do I ever know what to write?
The very thought
It feels so trite
Something that so seemingly cannot be taught
I’m finding that i think of you a lot
My heart so burns with numbness
I wish that i could go away and find that wardrobe
And be with mister tumnus
For now I sit and stare
At faces seem so bare
A thousand different things to fear
Shed but not a single tear
No sadness left to turn
From that torrent to slow burn
I’m finding now it’s hard to earn
A place now to discern
What option is the best
Why yes! You might ask
“What options might you have?”
Oh, wouldn’t You like to know?
Poems by Sam 