My name is not Important but who I am is not a dream,
My physical being holds no measure to my inner creation.
I am but a poor man with riches that lie in the heart,
What I’ve lost I do not seek out, things of new appear to me.
Once Iwas a child, a small and frightened boy left somewhere,
A place, a father, and haunting memory’s of a time since vanished.
There have been blessed upon me friends in a life of many roads,
In these passing years, lessons of pain and triumph are understood.
Children are mine to the count of three, two sons and a daughter,
The pictures that keep them show of an older me, my world.
I am a writer of thoughts, imagination, and living dreams,
The road I travel is in everyday, my eyes paint scenes from story’s.
Music has its own loneliness and beauty to fill my soul and mind,
I learn from it as I write this on going tale of a world full of mystery.
There are many components that make me who I am, a wanting man,
Passion, anger, and humor are part of the spirit in me, more to see.
A thinker and energy surround a body of laughter that some can’t grasp,
Not of violence to those whom know me, mistaken is hurt for anger.
To share my life with another and one to let me in theirs is prayed,
A poem read to, a meal for two, a walk in the park, a fire in the dark.
Brothers and sisters, a mother too far away, life has a secret,
Love that fly’s away fore another love will enter in its own way.
Something beautiful and meaningful is there before my eyes,
My name is Keith, this is my world and welcome to it.