A Precious Gift

To poor to give a present,

Oh no, I say, not I;

I gathered up the sunrise,

To put sparkle in your eyes.

To you I give the Springtime,

And flowers in their bloom;

To fill your heart with warmth,

On a wispy afternoon.

To you I give the smiles,

On all our children's faces;

To carry in your heart;

Like many soft embraces.

I give to you a stream,

And basking in the sun;

A campfire in the pines,

To share when day is done.

A gift of summer sunshine,

To melt the chills of age;

A hand to hold in evenings,

 And love written on life's pages.

If I were rich as Kings,

I could not give you more;

Then children, love, companionship,

A present not so poor!

Candles

Although you're just a piece of wax,

A stem ablaze with light;

You treat my heart to days gone by;

A midst this quiet night.

The flames grow tall, as so do dreams;

You give your all or so it seems.

Although you are but made of wax,

Your flame of life burns bright;

Memories adorn the hours,

On this most silent night.

A wisp of smoke, a flicker and a gleam,

You lend your all to the building of dreams.

Although you are but made of wax,

You bring to life my thinking back.

If

If only it were written,

That I were as soft as a kitten;

I'd lie so close and never stir,

I'd steal all tenderness and purr.

I'd drink my fill of love and touch,

And wallow in that love so much;

If I got close, I'd never stir;

Should someone hold me, I would purr.

Pool of Life

When once a pool deep and full, 

Now only muddy puddles remain;

 Once waters teaming with life,

Are shallows emotionally drained.

The struggle that's life still goes on,

But in waters too murky to see;

Circling round with no clear direction; 

 As separated from the main sea.

Will the last little puddle go dry?

Or the fragile balance be maintained?

Dreams and life's lines hardened in clay,

Erased in a torrent of rain.

Such are the lines of my life,

Lost in a flood of salt tears;

Leaving new clay, soft to be molded;

Free from traces of yesterday's years.

Souls

Walk with me on a mountain path,

Do not hold my hand;

For its touch is just the physical,

And the physical is but fleeting.

Sit with me and sense the view,

No, do not hold me;

Know the warmth of the sun,

The vastness of the moment and the sky.

Breathe deeply and feel the air;

No kiss is needed;

Share my silence and my thoughts,

They are but the whispers of the wind.

Drift into my eyes,

See my soul, it's yours;

Join me in spirit, meet me in thought,

Touches more lasting then a kiss.

Past Loves

Pictures given up to scrapbooks,

Letters stored in boxes or drawers;

A dried flower, petals tattered,

Mementos of memories shared.

All in neat compartments,

Folded away in our mind's corners;

Hidden, viewed at whim,

Wrapped securely in melancholy.

A scent, a song, a place,

Gives life to old emotions;

Regret, sadness, warmth, pain;

A tenderness, as yet not healed. 

Long Winding Road

Where are the sprites,the muses and fairies,

That watch over me?

Where is the angel who protects me;

From things I cannot see?

These are the times when I am the lowest,

That I hold on fiercely with faith;

I will not stop believing,

And I will keep my values safe.

I know I'm not alone,

Yet there is silence in my night;

And I whisper a prayer,

That all will turn out right.

There have been so many clouds,

In this life of mine to date;

But there is always a silver lining,

If I am patient and I wait.

In the darkness of my emotions,

Comes the strength that I have known;

Once again I am uplifted,

Once again, it seems I've grown.