I don’t some warm milk

nor can I count sheep

since I am peacefully under

in your arms where I sleep.

© Autumn Siders 2016

I try to keep an open mind

and then without a doubt,

a single person slams it closed

and kicks idealism out.

I really want to believe,

that good is all around

but the images I see now

are certainly hell bound.

© Autumn Siders 2016

The anticipation of what

may be

leaves me missing what

has been

which makes me question what

will be

since maybe it’s not what

I want.

© Autumn Siders 2016

The day begins anew

or is it the day before

they all run together;

I’ve stopped keeping score.

–

Is this what it’s all about

repeating history over again

or is there some deeper worth

than atoning for our daily sin?

© Autumn Siders 2016

The flowers are all but dead

and yet a ghost of their beauty

still dances in my head.

–

I thought that water and sun

would be all that they need

to survive the ever burning heat

and not become weeds.

–

But now, the flowers are surely gone

and the grass that remains is burned

into some semblance of a lawn.

–

Like those flowers who didn’t make it,

my love for you needed more

since the burning heat of passion

burned your soul to the core.

© Autumn Siders 2016

I can certainly do it myself

and most times I do

because on one soul I can rely

and that surely isn’t you.

© Autumn Siders 2016