Thursday, February 26, 2015

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!


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 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.

Monday, February 23, 2015

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.

Sunday, February 22, 2015


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.

Friday, February 20, 2015

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.