The Best of Me

      

By Patrice Watley-Williams

Patrice Watley-Williams The Best of Me You see I haven’t given you the best of me I’m still exploring, learning, testing me Breathing, living, expressing, me Meditating, seeking how to deliver What He has given me. So much that I sometimes feel myself moving An outer body experience, improving My skill as if I were rebooted, uploaded With new ideas, new words with new meaning Lyrical melodies in my head, never heard before The more I listen I hear a door open Seemingly waiting for me to walk in To begin anew but old just an improved mold Of clay of my hand penning my paper Different than before So strange from the range of my visual eye But clearly focused as I glide by my own words As I read them over and over Meaningful with power, delivery intense Never imagined such composure You see I still have yet to give you the best of me. Into My Fathers Eyes Looking into my fathers eyes Is like looking into my own Watching him look intently To see him as I walk closer His pace and sway goes faster As he recognizes a part of his seed approaching No matter what the circumstances I can see that he feels my love He can see it in my eyes Some of the greatest joys of past and present Seeping through our smiles I feel a distinctive look from him that he gives no other My heart sometimes racing like its NASCAR’s final lap Looking back on life thinking and wishing we had walked together Leaving our footprints in the sand Maximizing a relationship that could have been so much more Making us an ensemble that others wanted to be like Dreams of sitting at our favorite café eating Russell Stover Candies And Richard Munson Cinnabon’s without a calorie or care in the world Locked on one another and bonding like glue stuck in that spot With looks of a farmstead antique, rich in value and precious as jewels Outlet My outlet My tranquil time It’s what I use to relax my mind. My love for expressing My inner thoughts on paper, Keeps me grounded. Amazing myself of what lives deeply Imbedded within me. My soul sometimes, seemingly at a stand still In time. Not understanding why, But hoping in time It will reveal itself And strangely enough it usually does And it’s not always easy. Wanting so to express some thoughts aloud But not given the opportunity, Places those thoughts in a bubble, in a cloud. To play over and over in my head Pondering over the thought of my Words flowing aloud, would they be heard? Or would they float through a crowd of air. I’ve been told I find a deeper meaning In words from another ones mouth, Not that I purposely dissect their meaning But I try my best to interpret with understanding. Visit Patrice at: sbpra.com/patricewatleywilliams/