Self centred, I know, but
Some part of me believes
That somehow you will
Listen to these words.
Although this is addressed
To you, like everything I write
To other people, I am
The true subject matter.

Even though I always knew
That the words were not
Your own, you somehow
Spoke to me with that
Voice of velvet sunshine
That brightened so many lives.
Some warped logic suggests
To me that writing these
Words to you may have
The same effect.

My own words have been
Elusive ever since I
Came home; I have been
Haunted, instead, by others...
Pronouncements that,
Strangely, seem like they
Should describe how I feel.

I have begun to disbelieve
That I am myself, and that
The place I live is really home.
But if not me, and
If not here, then
Who and where?

I don't think I expect
Answers from you;
I merely hope that
These questions, asked,
Will become their
Own answers.

12/15/2005

Posted on 12/21/2005
Copyright © 2025 Richard Vince