Ever brooding
Drifting silently onward
Fog across the field

Quietly I sit
Watching as it rolls onward
And awe in wonder

It beckons me soft
Calling like a distant ghost
Listlessly quiet

Silently aching
Something in me wants to go
With the rolling fog

Sometimes
growing old
is optional
but getting older
is mandatory

We should sharpen
our minds
so that they never
grow old

Sometimes
You have to look closely to see
That what you thought was one
Is actually two... or even three

They say it's "for better or for worse"
But how many actually stay through the worse
As well as the better?

Love is patient and kind and does not envy and does not boast
Or does it?
Who knows

Love is something that needs to be worked on
It is something that grows
Only if it is tended to

So love
And
Be loved

Sometimes

The most

ordinary flower can

be so beautiful
 
when seen

through the eyes of

a child

Life
Is what you make of it
Or don't make of it

Sometimes, I think I am not living to my potential
That I am just drifting on in the sea of endless
And unachieved dreams
And just trying to make it day to day
Is a challenge

I could have been so much
And yet I am not
Life sometimes seems so disheartening
That the little things are what you despretely cling to
And find hope in

The countryside
is a pretty place
to be

When I was little
I would look out
and see
a field
a meadow
and stories would start to pop into my head

I haven't changed
as I have gotten older

I like
 to write
a lot
when I am bored
I tell
stories
in
my head.
The characters
are
my friends
my companions
and
my
entertainment

The rain falls
Fiercely
As the storm
Rages on
And yet
I am safe

The rain
Paints a picture
On the window
As the earth
Cries tears
To nourish
The soil
And cleanse
Everything

The heart
beats
because it has to
in order to survive
We depend on it


My heart
belongs
to the ones
to whom I have given pieces to
along the way
they help me
to survive

I wish I could go back in time
to when I was little
without any worries
because my mom and dad
did all the worrying then.
Now I am the grownup
and they are the children
and I must worry
while looking
wistfully back

Barbossa

Small regal lion

Perched comfortably on his throne

Cat who owns the house

Youth

Standing on the hill

looking down,

I see myself,

as a child

on a sled.

The breeze cold against my cheek

as I fly across snow

giggling

and chilled.

To be a child again

wistfully thinking

The cold sets in
Winter has come
To claim its mark

The crisp air bites
The chill is set
And we bundle up and stay inside

But winter marks a stage
With it comes hope
And promises of new life
A beginning
Spring

The radiant colors of fall are fleeting
They only last a few weeks
Until the last leaf plummets to the ground
And days start to turn bleak

Winter is reminding us it will soon be here
The snow will start to pour
The wintry chill will sink in
And freeze us to the core

But for a few short weeks of autumn
The colors amaze and cheer
And remind us to have some hope
For they will return again next year

Red, yellow, brown, orange
Every shade imaginable
Autumn splendor
In all of its glory

The stories an old bridge tells
Kept quiet for many years
Until painted over
By years of graffiti
And are lost
For generations to come

Ice beckons
yet there is treachery underneath
for is it strong
or is it weak
one cannot tell
sometimes
so all we do
is stare
and admire the beauty

the sky is the limit
or so we've been told
but could it be
there's more out there
then what we think we know?
Where is the limit?
Only within ourseleves

What is it?
A monster?
A thing?
Or merely a tadpole?
perhaps.....