Sun, 10/21/2018 - 07:58 -- myda

It is late on a Sunday,

my hair in a rut.

Anyone else might have left

but you,

you would not. 


Through thunder

through rain, 

you teach me to live

meanwhile, healing my pain. 

You teach to me cry 

meanwhile working to rid of hate. 

Who would have ever guessed that sounds

are the reason I don’t fall apart.


My biggest mentor was you. 

Holding the light, every time I get lost in the dark. 

You told me to always to sing out loud.

Now due to your love,

I sing.


Whether everyone is watching,

or no one is around. 





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