Porthole of yesterday

Porthole of yesterday
To my four daughter's ,
 Thank you for being there .

The Porthole of yesterday floods my mind,
Trying to escape those moments in time.
My eyes shed the tears of wasted years gone by,
Filled with uncertainty if I will survive.
My illness is like the flu of the mind,
Never tender nor never kind.
Stress filled moments exploding in my veins,
Trying to keep from going insane.
I feel like a small child not happy, but oh so scared,
The porthole of yesterday is my worse fear.
Is it death that is at my reach?
Or perhaps the memory of a lost love I long to keep?
Perhaps to be able to feel the summer rain,
To be in control of the passions rushing my brain.
To be able to watch boats float freely on the water,
Instead I am held captive by my own leash and collar.
Sitting here in my minds darkened room I dwell,
The Porthole of yesterday has become my hell.


Erotica Writings
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