If only I could’ve held him
Seen his lovely little face
But fate intervened
And he was lost
without a trace
I wonder what could’ve been
Our lives will never be the same
Some things we miss forever
And Jonathan Michael
was his name
© 2020 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/love-clouds-romance-sky-romantic-1381420/
Writing prompt: Jonathan Michael was his name
Turn this page over
See what’s behind
In-between the creases
I cannot hide
You’ll see my reality
The truth that I face
The depth of my desires
I dare not taste
Each sweeter than honey
These visions I explore
Yet locked in silence
Behind forbidden’s door
© 2020 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/fantasy-dark-gothic-dream-woman-4565555/
I’ve been stranded
Exiled in a way
Just another captive
Lost at sea
Riding the current
To another world
Hoping this reality
Is better than the last
© 2020 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/ocean-starry-sky-milky-way-rest-3605547/
I miss my America,
the land of the free
and the home of the brave.
Every day I see sadness,
war beaten faces
from battlefields,
found in my own backyard.
We used to be one nation
united under God.
We were indivisible with liberty
and practiced justice for all.
But how many people
even remember
our nation’s promised pledge.
The allegiance we swore
to the flag of our forefathers,
is a promise we failed to keep.
The roots of our republic
have somehow been forgotten
and the turmoil caused
from present day happenings
has torn the unity
straight from our hearts.
It’s a dishonor to our nation,
but even more so
a disgrace to our God.
Freedom of speech
never gave us the right to ruin
what our brave forefathers
fought to defend.
© 2020 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: Pixabay.com
We taste every word twice
in the aftermath
of our afflictions,
guzzling down granite,
gorging on grit.
If only we instead,
savored the jubilation
found in joy.
Taking extreme care
to feast on the days,
the ones leading up
to all those tumultuous times.
Seems like the aftershock
of our tribulations
wouldn’t be half
as hard to swallow.
And maybe we’d finally
be able to digest the qualms,
which plague our hearts
and hold us in oppression.
© 2020 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/blue-wall-wall-flower-stone-wall-3931444/
Her Writing Haven 