Poetry

When I am old, I want to look back
And feel like my life really mattered.

Epic, open, please!
Numerous charts to complete.
Will you ever load?

Beautiful life so often forsaken
Let sounds of the night gently awaken
The burning desire to live

A mother in the NICU
waiting room thinks aloud,
If God were listening

I do not understand love, as mightily as I strive

Year after year flowing through halls
A healing river of humanity