It’s gone away again, for a time.
This thing I call a mind.
It drifts away on wings sublime, headed for the happier times.
When nothing was wrong, when there was no doubt.
Or fearsome, hateful, screaming shouts.
I wish it would return again.
Yet I know not when it will.
A Simple man who dreams of being an Author one day. A lover of poems and stories of all types. A dreamer and a tale weaver in my spare time. What little I have as a father of three. Come sit by the fire, and let me spin my tales, let me speak my rhymes, and show you, a quite good time.
RedRavenPoems 
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