Days, weeks, then months
and years drift by.
Not always noticeable, or even
memorable, the time behind us
simply accumulates. All in all,
the sum of its parts leads to
a life well-lived, if you take
a moment to notice.
09/10/2024 j.g.l.
Mondays are just young Fridays
It’s not about height
or breadth, or depth.
It is all about perspective.
What limits you?
How far can you see?
To what end do you
appreciate what is in front of you?
Looking back is hindsight
and you have already been there.
Change your point of view.
Look up.
Don’t overlook opportunities.
What are your limits?
09/09/2024 j.g.l.
within
Secrets are rarely as heavy as
the weight we assign to them.
The gravity of circumspect
plays out, time and again. It is
what we carry as we decide
what crosses, or is held within,
our moral divide.
Sit with it for a while, moved
only when memory comes into
play; last night, or the other, or
any other day.
09/05/2024 j.g.l.
I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
April is Poetry Month
Posted on April 26, 2015 by j.g.lewis
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At The Time
She, she might not even notice
the beauty she hosts. She
is too busy,
caring, shouldering
responsibilities
others
are less bothered with.
She says she is lost
I am lost too.
It may not be
the same kind
of lost
or we may
show it or feel it
differently
after all, she is a She and I am a He.
She may not even know, in fact
might not care,
that I
know, her beauty.
I’ve not said it, not in the way
she needs to hear,
the way she needs to be seen.
I said I am empty. It’s not the kind
of empty,
the one devoid
of anything substantial,
but it is an empty
that means there is space
to fill.
I didn’t say it.
I didn’t say it
because I am a He and she is a She
and
we might have tried, but I didn’t enough
and God, she was brave and I
was unknowing and honest,
and frightened.
Yes, I was scared (but I didn’t say that)
and rather than say
I just let it go away.
Because she was that She, and I
didn’t wish to be
just another He.
I knew
she deserved more
than ever I could offer,
at least then, and I didn’t say enough.
At the time.
We all are
fighting time.
She questions her age, and I doubt mine too
and
she doesn’t know her beauty
but I certainly do,
So, seven days before I leave
we spent an evening
reading poetry
talking
taking the time.
Still I didn’t say it, because
she was She,
and I
was just me.
©2015 j.g. lewis
