Tears get in this poet’s eyes,

The other day, she said the sillies thing,

I’ll have to coach you in how to get the girls’ number,

I got Ruth’s number,

I don’t want another number,

You asked how I always get the wrong woman,

Because the one I sought,

Night time’s on the other end of my ear,

My heart’s stuck,

Even if you just laugh,

The sound of your glee

Just feel this empath’s heartbreak when a baby kitten screams goodbye Val,

The little spirit melts away from me in my arms,

To share that,

I never shared that with another bleathing human,

It eats at me,

I rather try to get them to fight,

I want them to know their live matter to me,

I wanted to do Hospice to read,

To be with people dying,

I did want,

Don’t want people to dye alone like my dad did,

I know it was hard for you,

It was priceless to me,

Night Ruth,

Wish you’d let me just say,

Just Val,

But that’s how this poet feels,

I know I’m nothing compared to your Mickey,

But I have goals,

Worth achieving,

And I love hard and fierce,

Loyal like a yellow dog, or cat,

Or a Val poet,