Scribblings of the Opiated Sherpa

I want to write, Only to you. My feelings on the page, Lonely and true. Sitting for hours, With things to say, Writing at night, 'til the first light of day. My inspiration, Stuck in my mind, Only your memory, So cute and so kind. But my words cannot sway, Your mind my way, Only my actions, But I am so far away. I continue to write, To keep up the hope, Instead of you going away, And I having to cope.

You may wonder why I continue to write you. You may wonder why I see you so vividly in my mind. You are my greatest memory. You make my heart fly. I may obsessed, but I will it my best, for you. You are a perfect fit. So perfect for me, I couldn't believe, how I didn't see months before I'd leave. For now that I think to November, back in time, where I vaguely remember. I noticed you there, so quiet and so cute. I couldn't say anything, was zipped and mute. So long you sat, so long I sat watching. So much time, every second fading. I saw you there, in the halls, to and fro, up and down, side to side. The time to grow up was then. After the dance. After the duet together. I'm nobody the kids want to be, I can't be Superman. But the song, the both of us, yes we can bring ourselves together. I knew it was you. You are the one. You are her, because you've seen me. You were with me. You know me. That is something other haven't seen. What

In a time, where there is, no honor in the heart, of the average man. Where there is, no sense of, one and only. Where it seems, everybody is out, for everybody. Where it seems, it takes many wrongs, to figure out the right. Buried beneath, the wrongs, and the mistrust. Buried beneath, the past, and the future. Presently, I think I've found, my right. Presently, it will take time, for it to be fact. For thou, I shall wait, the time. For thou, I shall not, give up.

Tonight I watched, The dark clouds roll. Tonight I felt, The heat taking its toll. The clouds grew, And the birds were gone. Blue skies, Fell away like the sun. The wind blew in, The trees bent over, Closed each window, 'til none were left over. Small pellets fell, Onto my hands, The drops grew larger, Over the farm lands. I took off my shoes, Kicked off my socks, Ran to the door, And undid the locks. I jumped outside, All warm and dry, She stood inside, Beginning to cry. I came back, All tired and wet. I asked her "What's wrong?", She continually wept. I brushed the tears, Away from her eyes. Her voice was all, Deep breaths and sighs. She couldn't stand seeing me, Dancing in the rain. It brought back memories, Of her and the train. It was her and a friend, Out at the tracks, The rain came down, As the train rolled back. The rain was hard, They didn't hear it coming, The girls couldn't see, The light that was shining. My girl caught on, But her friend was

I don't need, this space you left me. I don't need, to spread my wings, and fly away. I just want, to stay grounded. I just want, to be home, and close to you. The light bounces, from face to face. Even though, you are not here, I can still see you. How can I forget, the shimmering beauty. How can I forget, that sweet voice, and soft touch. Now it is over, left on good terms. Now that it's over, I must start again, and a new light.

The last mile, one mile too far, I ran, was too far. Off the cliff, I fell for days. If I hear, you call down, I don't know how, long it took, to reach my wanting ears. I ran, for you. Not 'cause you wanted me to, but because I needed to. The map said, the bridge was out. There isn't really, a way back. Don't send for help, don't say you're sorry. I did it, I did it to myself. I can make it back myself. Part of me are broken, but I did it to myself.

Would you trust me, To write you a year? One calendar year, Of your wonderful, Beautiful existence. To write you a year, A happy new year, To a white Christmas. With what you have, Always wanted. If I asked, Of what you desired, Would you hesitate to say, My name, Or not at all. If I could write, Those 365 days, From front to back, All your days sunny, And your nights fulfilled. Do I hold, Your happiness, Your dreams, Your desires, In the pen?

I am afraid, Of your pretty little hands. My heart is in your hands, So small and insignificant. With swift stroke, The small heart, Would be crushed, Beaten and gone. A heart so, Dedicated and strong, Yet so small, And non-existent. It calls to you, Like a tree, Falling in the forest. Did you hear? No, of course not. Why should you feel, Anything for me, And my heart.

The CD player spins. The song has ended. The song I love, not tired of yet. Still a lot of time, left before I buy, into something new. But not this song. Not this time. This song I could, listen to forever. Nothing new, nothing old, can change my mind. This CD will spin, again and again. Maybe for that song, or I'll look for, something new within. A new surprise, but forever a favorite.