awakened to an unusually dark, bleak, and dreary day. One she had
hoped would offer a welcoming ray of sunlight alighting on
her window.
Would be far better than the dark and foreboding clouds which
awaited her presence. Something she was not looking
to, but, realising it could be far worse,
she accepted
it and whiled away the hours which were given to her without a qualm or misgiving. Perhaps she began to look at life
differently, after having arrived at an intersect,
left quite surprised
she
was not being purely judgmental, and having done so, she gave herself a pat on her back and a well deserved
compliment not
caring
if it were her own. And if anyone heard her one-sided conversation,
that was a matter they, themselves, were to contend with,
leaving her entirely out of
it.
Perhaps it was the manner in which she assuredly approached with
confidence and without a hint of apprehension, Gives way
to cause one to wonder in what way had she gained
the courage to do
so.
Remembering how frightened she was previously.
I do remember there was once a time she grew fearful of her own
shadow. Were it the monsters beneath her bed, having
grown fearful of them at such an early age.
Referring to the manner
they
in the dark when she was so desperately wanting to sleep….
I oft wonder if she ever grew tired of them, regarding
the manner in which they conversed heatedly
amongst themselves
keeping
her awake during the long hours of the dark, One would think she
might have grown quite fond of them during
her years of
or imaginary. It became exceedingly difficult to differentiate as the
moments passed. What appeared to be real. Presenting
itself as if it were within a dream
state.
Is one to become what one would be thought of as being a mere
facsimile, living and breathing as if it had been brought
to life at the
Referring to their, momentary existence. Would it be defined as being a plausible deniability, if relating to,
and including virtual
reality.
To have seen her appearing as if out of thin air…
These months gone quickly by.
Am I to be regarded as a lunatic. Referring to my insatiable desire.
I refuse to deny her own
existence.
oft-times lies wandering to and fro and with less to reason,
If I were so inclined, remaining quite uncertain
what lies within this
madness.
Stride for stride, what lurks within these shadows in which
Am I to grow fearful of it, what remains left unseen? What stories
remain left untold. Will there be anyone left to read of them,
friend or foe.
Aye, what lies within a word by definition, will it be found congruent; referring to what may be found to
be a misrepresentation.
And written out of sequence.
Am I too bold, inquiring, was I to have remained silent. If it were
not for this madness. Aye, and therein
lies the rub.
About James Sterling
James began writing at the age of 13, and he has published about 12500 pages of poetry on Facebook! He retired from work at the age of 62.
James is proud to share that he never edits what he has written, and that is the beauty of his writing!!
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