Thoughts 1:24 p.m.
It's funny how I write about love all the time. I guess that's who I am. It's seems to stay just at the edge just beyond my
reach. I seek you to be my pillow when I sleep but I wake with a stiff neck because you are not there. I can see my heaven
yet my wings never appear to spread long enough to touch it. Building dreams of paradise through my writings stand like a
wall between you and me. I'm still in love with love and everything about it. I become lost picking at fantasies in my mind.
Stroking this pen again writing what I dream to become a reality through my pen. If I can give you hope that love can
happen for you I know it can happen for me also.
As I continue to write about my love
Love come back to me. I miss you, and we belong together.
I write this thought to you as I sit with me drinking coffee in the midday, waiting for you
Deborah R. Shaw
The Silent Stalker
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