Leaves sparkling with colours of red, yellow, brown and gold.
Young sapling trees point skyward
chasing old gnarled ones to reach a passing cloud,
straight as an arrow the young ones against the twisted shape of old.
Bluebells in abundance
covering the floor like a carpet,
swaying gentle on the sometimes breeze.
Elusive as a butterfly
It’s time for you to fly
Mourn me now whilst I live
For not knowing the who, what, why, where and when,
When I die
Do not sigh or cry
Be happy that I am done
Like the waning of the sun.
Coolness from the days heat
Lifes’ stresses abate
Heart misses a beat
Float on my back, at a sedate rate
Currant pulls faster
To rapids, and disaster
Arms and mind now flapping.
Rain drops hiding my tears
Holding inside deep, all of my fears
Of doom and gloom I write
Dark heavy clouds, no sunlight.
In a room long left vacant, he sits at the window looking out, cobwebs adorn the room like Christmas decorations. The window glass dirty from neglect.
Inspired by Empty Spaces.. Go to post here
One of the joys of the first fall of snow is lying down and making “Snow Angels”
There it lay, crisp and white
Fresh and pure from the fall last night
hear the gleeful squeals of children at play
Eyes bright at the sight
of untrodden virgin snow
If I were an author!
I would write a story of love,
a love that would bind
our two hearts,
write words of love for your voice,
as I let it wash over me,
of kissing your lips and the taste of you,
But I am only me,
as you can see.
Dark clouds overhead
Thunder rolls, lightening strikes
The tower dark and gloomy
Lit up in the night