I wish I knew where tears come from
The eyes are where they show...

I borrowed your old picture
I just couldn't help myself...

I was going to write a sad poem
But my nephew shot himself...

She got it a week before Christmas
Like every year before...

Poets will try to hide their pain
Where tears will go unseen...

A poem should touch the inner core
Where feelings are only found...

Sometimes in November
When the sun is sitting high...

A poem is a song that our souls need to sing
Written to the music our emotions bring...

I pick the scab my mind has grown
To find the words I need...

A hundred and fifty days have passed
Since I've seen your smiling face...

I'm living in the shadow
Of the one you left behind...

The waves reaching out
caressing the lonely sand...