Now there is a place in the silken webs of logic where somewhere does reside,
but the tangled dreams of my existence; remain hidden somewhere deep inside.
I've researched the truth of my essence and it is probable that I do exist,
but to what capacity and somewhere it is clear but now it remains in mist.
My parents are part of somewhere; but now my Dad is somewhere lurking in my past,
He died and has gone somewhere, where the angels welcome his walk at last.
My somewhere is still an uncompleted journal, one more page I reach to turn,
in the scribblings of my life; in joy and sorrow, I'll stretch some more to learn.
All of us have infinite somewheres of noisy whispers through a chaotic, mundane life,
some people sharing another's somewhere, but soon leaving for a husband or wife.
I try to change my somewhere at least every two years so it doesn't get stale,
then backtrack to my somewhere, looking for breadcrumbs down that familiar trail.
Now the logic behind my ramblings, is found somewhere in the recesses of my mind,
If I've confused you somewhere, relax; for I myself am seeking someone unique in kind.
The Designer of such an incredible, advanced mechanism as my very mind and soul,
and what lies along that incredulous journey; are the missing pieces to make me whole!
Jane Richer is a poet and writer who lives in Alberta, Canada and is so far published only online. She loves to poke fun at herself and rather likes to write tongue-in-cheek poetry but she will dabble in all kinds of genres to widen her creative nature. She loves to 'sister'- (write a complimentary poem) and feels that is the greatest form of acknowledgment and respect in expression for another poet's talent.