If my body limbs and pens could talk to me, I suppose there wouldn’t be any loneliness.
Just alone with thoughts and that extra word or two. I hate remembering,
because of the Destitute; Not in I but….
Only memories were of me alone, just a reminder that this isn’t a poem.
Those sweet cartoons like Clifford and Caillou. It’s crazy because I really will and do miss all of you.
*A note to self – his heart still beats.*
C. B Wagner