A poem for girls once loved
For the widows
staring out of bedroom windows
hoping the last ray of sunlight will warm the side of the bed that is now empty.
Scared that a smile from a stranger’s visage will strike up a memory long forgotten,
afraid to shed any more tears in the rain as the earth soaks it up
as if meant to wipe the dust off her lovers coffin, six feet under
thoughts on her two bundles of joy
a son with a striking resemblance to his father
and a daughter with no figure to show her what to look for in a man.
For those with hearts broken
by bad boys in leather jackets, with blue jeans and killer smiles.
Bearing scars from the mishap with Cupid’s arrow
and wounds from the guilt of knowing her baby will never know her father.
Struggling with a past that haunts her, a present that taunts her
and a future that is but a mirage on a path she has traveled far too long.
The smile on her baby’s face is the plaster that holds her world together
the break of dawn that signals a new day, a new way
this life she now holds in her arms.
My first love.
For the girls who’ve lost hope in fairy tale endings
believing that love can only be found in movies and defining it by what they see in soap operas.
Donned in black, everyday is a funeral for chivalry
waiting to pull the plug on romance, widowed by Prince Charming
gone is Mr. Right, can’t see the light
for at the end of the tunnels stands a wall, to stall
any form of progress
in this battle between dependence and independence
victims of a war between past culture and present convictions.
Love is patient and kind,
love is not jealous or boastful, it is not arrogant or rude
love does not insist on its own way, it is not irritable or resentful
it does not rejoice at wrong but rejoices in the right.
Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things
Love never ends…