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In the course of writing poetry, I’ve found dry spells most vexing and troublesome. Why? Because I know myself, and I know within, my passions roil. When nothing comes out, I sense the tsunami that is to come.

The ebb and flow of writing can mock a writer at times. The desire to express oneself lies ever present inside the heart, but sometimes the words will not emerge. Feelings of disconnectedness from your heart can unnerve at times, but armed with the confidence of the muses’ return, you continue to move forward.

Today, I wrote three poems. The first two do not count. lol! The flow did not happen until I stepped into the current of my heart. Once I entered my poetic stream, all felt right in my writing world.

As is true of most of the poetry on this site, this poem comes to you unadorned by editing or tweaking. Simply, the poem is straight off the heart into the fingertips and out on the web. Poem number three for the day, the one that stroked my writer soul:

My Cherished Friend

How is it you tickle my dreams?
Run barefoot through my heart?
Dance quiet in my soul?

What moment do I make available to you?
Day or night? Minutes or hours?
Comfort or understanding? Insight or sadness?

When does my spirit long for yours?
In the midst of a poem? A song? A thought?
A reverie of all that stands good and true in this world?

Where does my heart wander that you cannot soothe me?
Dark recesses of pain? Confused questions of life?
Troubled stumbles and errors? Under quiet midnight moons?

Why may I believe your love holds fair?
Your words of wisdom? Of depth? Of empathy?
Transcendent strength from commitment to your cause?

May my life be filled with your imaginary waltz,
Your carefree, barefoot stroll through my soul, and
May I return, in kind, a true and loving touch of your heart.

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