At the end of the day you don't hear my prayers for the ones I love who are agonizing over broken hearts. At the end of the day you don't feel my tears brought on by self-inflicted wounds. At the end of the day you don't see the ring with 4 corners where the fighters… Continue reading When the Day Settles
What I wouldn't give for an unplugged morning and a long winding walk with the squirrels for companions.
Sometimes I dream, if only on the page, of a Prairie running as far as the eye can see and a Stream - babbling and bouncing over rocks and roots and A sky made just for me Sometimes I flee a rain cloud overhead, all the while Wishing it would softly rain on me; That… Continue reading To the Author Who is Writing Me
When you're struggling Like a clothesline in the wind With the weight of all you have Hanging on the line When you're running Like a freight-train-Friday night When what's behind you keeps on coming Up from behind When you're low down You're feeling lower than the floor now When all that's weighing on your heart… Continue reading Hold On
It's been daybreak in my soul ever since you appeared.
The question I’ve been pondering is - What do we mean when we say “I love you” When those words more than won’t do – Why don’t we say what we really mean, then?
It takes a steadfast heart To linger when Its sole receiver Hasn't an idea That a sweet and Gentle waiting soul Has a heart of love To share with him It takes a steadfast faith To stay the course When its intend's heart Cries, aches, and bends And covers itself in 'pasts' And 'what-went-wrongs' While… Continue reading Steadfast Heart
Sunlight barged in through half-opened blinds, without knocking. Nosey sun. I deep-blinked; then again. What was its business here so early - without bringing coffee, no less? People stirred in the house, the ice maker clanked and hummed. I began recalling the dream I was just awakened from. I vaguely remember darkness, a dying fire,… Continue reading Writing, Half-asleep
Some things in life go perfectly Some people find the perfect fit the first time I just seldom happen to be among the “some” Like new jeans… I hate those things First, you inch into one of the legs, and Do a kind of hop-step-jump into the other And shimmy and stretch them up and… Continue reading Pocket Full of Shoestrings
Sometimes I dream, if only on the page, of a Prairie running as far as the eye can see and a Stream - babbling and bouncing over rocks and roots and A sky made just for me Sometimes I flee a rain cloud overhead, all the while Wishing it would softly rain on me; That… Continue reading Writing Me . . .