Photo credit: Knuth Waltenberg

There are times I find myself like a song,

Free, gentle, beautifully created, and upbeat:

And there are times, I find myself,

Like a broken record replaying old songs;

of the past mishaps, like a rip torn sheet,

—momentarily:

There are times my smile seems, to want go on endlessly,

Then my mouth transform to a despondent disguise;

The seriousness, of your mystical energy, your mystical eyes,

Lighten my load and made me smile:

—Your gentle whisper brings solitude to my heart, all the time.

Empress Journee