January 22, 1979

I Only Want You to Know

Alone, I am without you,

just existing within my solitude.

There are many things I must do,

one, is to let you know that I am subdued.

I want only the very best to happen,

to return to you once more.

I really have no idea when,

but when I do, you will know, I am sure.

Of all the past memories,

the greatest on my mind,

before I sleep,

I think about the rushing sea.

And, like the water,

you too, are one of a kind.

I make this comparison of water and you,

because you are both so much the same,

you rush forward, stop suddenly,

and return to what you are;

a serene blue of tranquility and calm.

I ask not for much, only to say,

that given time,

our minds and bodies will grow.

For you, I will work hard in every way.

I love you.

I beg not, I ask not;

I only want you to know.

On February 7th 2018, I went to visit one of two remaining uncles for three days. In doing so, he showed me many photos of family, some of which I had never seen before. In this mix of family history, I found this poem I wrote.

Quite honestly, I don’t recall who this was written for, or even why I wrote it. Yet, as a writer, it is part of what I do and who I am. Is it one of my best? Hardly. But it goes with hundreds of other pieces that have yet to see the light of day. Because of original grammar, and spelling back then, I did clean this up (just a little).