Abe, The Poor Man's Poet

Wireless

Sometimes, Human wanting
Is not, what we really want
And, memories, of what we had
Play, with our heart, and taunt.

All the wishing, and wanting
Can, haunt us to the grave
But, those things we desire
Is, the only worthy, slave.

At times, something simple
Like, a place to lay our head
Comfort, of arms holding you
With, no words needed, said.

To look deep, into the eyes
To see, the love that's there
Is the only thing, that it takes
To tell, how much, we care.

Miles and years may be, many
But desire, transcends them all
It can be sent on the wireless
Of the heart, and the mind's, call.

Del "Abe" Jones
02.01.2012