This collection ponders ideas of introspection, love, loss, and life's expectations from the perspective of a twenty-something, aspiring author deluded by teachers and peers that poetry should flow like the blood in our veins.  What this poet learns along a tentative path of self-discovery is that poetry is exactly that... it is a study in nature and beauty.   At times, allowing those realizations to rise toward the surface of self-awareness is hard work... sometimes painful, but most often warm and enlightening.
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Written in my early twenties, this is a collection of young adult angst, tributes to those I loved, the melancholy musings of a die-hard romantic, and a little dabbling in the politics of the time… all of which made me appear (at least to myself) incredibly insightful and mature. 
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In truth, not so much.
 
So, why is it sitting in your hands today?  Well, I’m in my mid-fifties now, and my perspective has changed once again.  Now, this book is a matter of legacy, a matter of “proof of experience”, and an excuse to never write poetry again.I hope you find something of interest within these pages.  If you do, I’d love to hear about it!
Thank you for your indulgence.
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~100 pages