to Marcy Howard
As, we wander, through, this life;we learn, as we live,
That, there are those, who always take;but also, those, who always give,
Sometimes, we never, realize;which type, a person, might be,
But, within, realization; know, what, you’ve given, to me.
While, we sometimes, lose our way;there’s, no need, to remain, lost,
And if, we don’t use, our sight, to see;could the future, be the cost,
Inside, every one, of us;there lives, a beating heart,
And all, those things, that we, believe;might be, tomorrow’s start.
Though all, of us, are different;we all, bleed real blood,
And in, that instant, when you see;answer’s, come, in a flood,
Many of us, may never, find;those answers, that we seek,
Yet, when, those answers, come along;the truth, won’t let, you speak.
We each, have, the ability;to recognize, what events, make us feel,
But sometimes, they condition us;to believe, things, aren’t real,
You, have given me, so many things;you, helped, this blind man, see,
I’ll always, love, the person, you are;and I know, that you love me.