I wanted to ask the questions.
Never sought out the answers.
But they never stop writing from their window view inside.
And each time we gazed in and gasp at such beautiful writes.
Is there any need to say any more?
I wonder why they closed the door.
For the heart at times just beats the lines out of me.
Saying I will have the last word with you but carefully.
Such an amazing gifts to all of us, will there be any more?
Is this a final bow or are they coming back for an encore?
I ask on a bended knee.
I always answer Just Me.
"Sparks still fly from your poetic finger tips.”
"A burning fire from inside to read in scripts”
Today I take a moment of silence that frees my prisoner pen.
Missing their poetic rhyme to us as former Creative Friends.
Lack of sleep is cause by my heart in constant need.
Parchment waits for you to answer this poet's creed.