Traces
High boots and leather jeans.
Monsters chillin’ in the freeze.
Nooner naps and summer dreams.
Pay the bill before you leave.
Sister Sara, sweet as wine,
a trace of Heaven in your eyes.
Or is it just a mere disguise
that keeps me hanging by your side?
I look for you so late each night
in every word I come to write.
But cannot find the perfect rhyme.
And soon you fade right out of sight.
There is no place to hide the pain.
There is no comfort from the rain.
These lonely streets are my domain.
Without a trace, I live in vain.
I tear a page from life’s lament
to morn the wasted moments spent.
Though it never was my true intent,
to cast away what’s Heaven sent.
Love is life that builds a home.
Not a heart that lives alone.
The bits and pieces of a poem
retracing memories we have known.
Michael 3/23/2021
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