Jane Secor

Tariffville, Connecticut, USA

Have been writing poetry for past thirty-five years during busy career as nursing educator, administrator and researcher.Am a registered nurse, was 1st Lt in Army Nurse Corp. during W.W.II, served two years overseas. Have earned a B.A. (English), M.A. (Nursing Education), and Ph.D. (Nursing and Adult Education).Had three nursing texts published plus many nursing articles, and have been a frequent guest speaker to nursing and related groups.Am a member of three academic honorary societies, several professional organizations, and other civic groups.Am now retired and spend quite a few hours doing volunteer work for nursing groups. I continue to write poetry with enthusiasm.I believe that there is beauty in the written word, whether it is through the objectivity of scientific expression or through the subjectivity of creative innovation.

Friendship

Friendship is a special devotion
Fulfilling a uniquely personal need;
A treasure of a fragile emotion
Which must be nurtured to succeed.
The joy of intimate sharing
Is purely a human trait.
We choose the ones for caring
Not relying on chance or fate.
Feelings develop which are sincere,
Unlike any other of its kind;
Its nature is not always clear
As it envelops the human mind.
As subtly as it evolved,
The friendship can be suspended;
And either of the parties involved
Sadly, can declare it ended.

Dreams

Dreams are personal fantasies
Neither plotted nor designed,
Surrounded by muted mysteries
Of the sleeping mind.
It is often opted to forget
This panorama of the brain.
To remember may cause regret
Of imagery difficult to explain.
Who can recall the reverie
When sleep becomes awake
And all surreal imagery
Is lost in coming daybreak.
Then once again comes night
And time anew to scheme,
And translate imaginary sight
Into the illusory dream.
This cycle is repeated
Nocturnally during sleep;
The memory oft deleted
Of the secrets that we keep.

Rain

The world slowly becomes grey
Denying the clock which shows
That it is the middle of the day
Yet darkness continually grows.
The clouds drift with increasing speed
Though heavy and moisture-filled,
As though they must proceed
To prevent their burden from being spilled.
But then the sky loosens its hold
when full saturation it attains
And huge torrents fall uncontrolled
As finally the clouds yield and it rains.