you imagine me
sans you
free to step into
darkened pubs
to sip soup
from earthen bowls
eyes widened
heart open
excitedly conversing
to a jillion-and-one
interesting people
you say
will all be
hanging on
my every word.

alone now
as you precursed
i sit here
in this dark place
a cup of gruel
in a worn clay mug
pressed to my
frozen lips
casual onlookers
daring to wonder
but most probably
do not care
how it is i came
to this prison.

before you all send this to "dear abby" or dr. phil with the request, "please help my friend, she's in a low place," please allow me to remind you, poetry is also journey that the reader takes. it is not always mirror-image of what the writer may be going through (literally) at the current moment.

poems for me, at times, are comprised of "found things." While some may be autobiographical to a point, many are a culmination of words that i've been toying with, along with the concepts and emotions i challenge myself to put behind these words. whether i am having the experience or not, i make an attempt to bring it to the page "as if."

in that way, i hope to achieve some manner of growth on an otherwise blank page. my hope is that it will cling there and perhaps catch someone else up, allowing them to think and feel in a similar direction ... or better yet, a new direction i had not yet thought of. it is in this way that i always, always, always appreciate the den comments and email feedback as i see where my creation ultimately goes.

as i have said in the past, i appreciate you all and have been reading lots!!!!, unfortunately only commenting occasionally and having little time of late for my own work ... which is why my daughter has been getting a lot of authorsden play lately, because she is gushing with the stuff that is poetry. take care all. -anne