That cold full moon watches me.
As I sit outside on the cold step.
Smoking a cigarette
Tip aglow in the silver moonlight
So many regrets, so much pain
At so many lost dreams
Shared with moonbeams
But I am alone as always
Fighting life, an army of one.
Solitary. Such a bitter word to me
A word so painful that I can't utter it now
Under Cybele's baleful glare
Cigarette smoke rises in curling streams
Reaching up to sway, to dance in moonbeams
October now and the nights get cold
As cold as my heart it seems lately
And soon this step I sit on will be mantled with frost
Will I still be here? I ask myself
Or maybe elsewhere
But who knows? Not I so it seems
Under cold moonbeams.
Stan M Rogers copyright 2009
Tomorrow. I will wake early.
Tomorrow a dark cold morning.
Midwinter gloomy, rain on my window.
As bleak as only December can be.
Before the dawn.
But I will waken with joy in my heart
A smile will suffuse my face as I start my day
A joyful day … a happy day
… for tomorrow I travel. I escape.
Sweet freedom. A brief parole.
Tomorrow. I will create my own sunshine.
For a day I will cease being chameleon.
I will be me. The true me I remember.
The me I don’t fear. For fear has no place.
Tomorrow. I won’t be alone.
Stan M Rogers Copyright 2018