Darkness creeps in with its gift, lightning bugs,
And my granddaughter's kisses, her warm gentle hugs.
It's so humid and sultry the nights all abound
With the magic that only in summer is found.
The crickets are chirping and the whippoorwills call.
It's the season for porch swings and a game of baseball.
I see the bright sunsets and hear the night sounds.
I feel the damp dew fall and dig up the ground.
I plant pretty flowers to bloom in the fall--
So strong and so versatile--nothing hurts me at all.
I care not for wishing on the first star tonight.
Dreams never come true though wish as I might.
I stay very busy with cleaning and such,
So I don't miss your kisses, or spontaneous touch.
I NEVER remember a time when it seemed
In some grand delusion life was just as I'd dreamed.
So why should I care NOW, and why should I cry?
Once you told me you loved me. It was only a lie.
Jessica, I think sometimes putting unhappy remembrances and thoughts into writing is a way to put sad times behind. I hope that this poem has helped you do that. You've done a nice job putting your sadness into poetry. Helen