Melancholy encased my heart
a quick cold dart
of pain yet bliss
feeling amiss.

The words I never chanced to say
on any day
slipped by in time
silent, sublime.

Chances given but taken back
leaving a track
of broken dreams
or so it seems.

. . .

We all write poems;
it is simply that poets are the ones who write in words.
—John Fowles

pink red buds blossom on a single branch with blue sky and limbs in the background. Text: Poetry centers the heart. by Kathryn LeRoy

. . .

Let’s get to know one another. You can find me on Twitter, Instagram, and LinkedIn.  Every Saturday, I send a brief newsletter to share life’s moments to uplift and add a little more kindness into the world with words and photographs. You can sign up here. Thanks!

And always—Be kind. Be brave. Be you.

Photo: Red Bud Dreams © Kathryn LeRoy

Poem Form: Minute Poem