Good day to me, again.
It is another blissful day here in the Eastern Adirondacks. Sun is shinning and cold as all hell, if hell was cold that is. Still feeling the same; lost, stolen, empty, and needing a spark of some sort. Here is another poem to help cheer me up.

She does not realize
the emotions she controls

she escapes with the night
leaving a trail of text

a new job, new school
an old family welcomes her

pay comes again and nothing,
no words from the missed

she left, moved out/away
without a glance into her past

attempts are made, grievingly
her responses pre-recorded

time will come, others will go
she will remain as they all do.

Eric D. Potter