The New Me

Sometimes tears fall, sometimes the
knife is really words that hurt

and when pain becomes a salve
for the hurting, I cry--

nights are lonely as a dove seeking a
mate, searching for the right one

wanting to join two hearts, like me
then enter the nightly wind--

tomorrow is an arrow, piercing
probing the strength I feel

when it comes like a runaway train
I'll keep on smiling, a knife is
the price of pain

but only a memory.

© Richard L. Provencher