Every Night, I Take A Step, Toward The Sunlight by ShyHeart

Another day, without you, reminds me, when I was searching for a dream
Then, I met, you, quite as a flower, in the spring time, in a field, alone
Lucky me, I happen, to pass by, saw your heart, in full bloom, full
Of memories, searching, for the sunlight, late at night, just, like me

The moon, was speaking, without a voice, the stars, were bright,
But, they, set no course, for any heart, they just, lit the way
Saying, let, your heart go, as stars, we, only, light the way
The, path of your heart, belongs, only, to you, love, or a memory

Today, I see, by the evening star-light, we let, the years, slip, away
I am here, and I don’t know where, you are, I just remember,
I was searching for a dream, then I met you, in the spring time
In a field, alone, your heart was in full bloom, where is, this, memory?

Another day, without you, reminds me, when I was searching for a dream
Then, I met you, quite as a flower, in the spring time, in a field, alone
Lucky me, I happen, to pass by, saw your heart, in full bloom, full
Of memories, searching, for the sunlight, late at night, just, like me

“Every Night, I Take A Step, Toward The Sunlight”

Amy (82.35.77.233) -- Saturday, October 16 2004, 08:13 pm

Mr Martin
Hello Mr Martin. i just wanted to say that i liked your poem. i didnt understand all of it and you had a lot of words that i never heard of before so i had to get some help. but i know its about you and you love someone but you lost them i think. maybe oneday you can find them again and it will be like it is in your poem.
love Amy BananaHead

Martin Vann (67.234.27.174) -- Monday, October 25 2004, 06:33 pm

Hi, Amy, Thank You For Reading My Poem.
Amy, BananaHead;

I love your name, you must be, as sweet as banana puding. Did you ever have banana pudding, you know, with those little cookies on top? Amy, you are so young, yet, you, have a heart that, can read and understand, yet, I know, sometimes, my words are confusing. Yet, even as you say, you don't understand, every word.

Amy, I think you do, like when you hug a teddy bear, you don't have to understand, ever word, you just know, he loves you.

That is what my poem is about, although, I am much older than than, like you, I still love to hug my teddy bear. So you ask, if, you are so old, why, do you still, hug a teddy bear? Amy, Puddin-Head, my answer is, and this is a secret, just, between you and me okay?

I still love, my teady bear because he was always there, for me. Like a best friend, who always seem to understand, what I felt, when none of my friends did.

So, Amy, as young as you are and as old as I am, we both love, our teddy bears. Thank you Amy, for being my friend, I will always be here for you! So, if, you need to speak to me, or my teddy bear, he and I, (By the way, my teddy bear's name is Ralph) we will both be here if, you want to speak to us, Thank you for loving us, We LOVE you to!

MV

joyce ivy (68.19.190.237) -- Monday, October 25 2004, 07:16 pm

WOW!! Martin this is beautiful...
Martin i'm really not sure which was more beautiful your poem...in which I really loved..Or your comments to Amy...Very touching..seems as though you know our little friend Amy also...she is so sweet...and yes she does seem to understand more than a seven year old should...Thanks for sharing both...your poem and your heart with us all...
your friend...
joyce

Martin Vann (67.234.27.174) -- Monday, October 25 2004, 07:55 pm

Children, Are The Life, Of A Poet's Heart
Joyce;

Your words are as sweet as child, who reads the first poem about a heart, and replies, unknowingly, such a tender heart explains, they see more, than we, who are older, and wiser, yet, we write, these poems seems to me, love in all its purity, belong, to the young for they can see, with their teddy bear in their little arms, what we try to say, with our poems.

Thank You Joyce,
And thank you God, for Amy, she hears our voice, as you do. so, sweet, tonight, I will say a prayer for Amy, and her tender, loving heart & Teddy Bear, thank you Lord.

Thanks, Joyce
P.S.
Sometimes, I get caught up in myself, when I read the words, like, little Amy wrote.

MV

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