Born upon thy very soul, be still, let me stay close to this scene show what beauty shall be, amid such morning to come where light and dreams intertwine, through ever flowing moments like prints of dew on the ground, here, from hour to hour slipped as if from heaven, descending through paths so walked with gentleness of softening sighs, as shadows gather playfully about until the hands of forever gather them, and place them together into yesterday.
Dear teardrop. such sweet seduction upon your lips, a flowered perfume to tempt my senses, beauty gathered.
You make my moments more pleasurable, you, yourself.
I have waited many eternities, to bring out these moments, to shout out a believable desire, your hand, your heart, the light and dark give chance, draws out secrets spoken, whispered among the gentle, looking like no other, savoring beyond the moment.
In the sweet smelling morning life is filled with wonder, a moment of anthem toiled from the passing breeze, now given freely and gently while little spheres of dew aimlessly wander, parting the moment the new sun chases them away, but wishing only a chance to return and dance again amid the colored petals.
The cooling winds prevail moving as they choose, taking the fallen leaves into their confidence, each swirling, dancing along as imaginations take them to far away destinations, over wild lands and subtle waves where the sky and sea meet, they bring stories of coming snows it seems like the cooler winds always chase the warm, gentle times away.
She seemed to watch over us with those soft caring eyes, a care felt in her touch tethered with her loving smile, her laughter would bring hope to me as I listened to her stories, and thinking about the amount of love she gave in every hug, every meal she prepared, the tender way she kissed us goodnight before putting us up for the night.
Each day brings changes, each day brings chances, for those moments they will pass, turned in between hopes and dreams, of nations crossing, but never touching, patiently wait, no harm will come, stay and see a new day break, calming, flowing by thoughts, and wisdom, trading and biding it's time.
How many daydreams do I possess, home, back into my childhood, the farmhouse still stands like I remember it, waiting for my arrival, to be filled with that love that made it a home, the cold wooden floors in winter, all the way through the open windows in the heat of summer.
The wood stove filling my mind with thoughts of my mother's cooking, everyone gathered at the table, grace spoken, giving thanks for what we received, each meal always prepared with a pair of caring hands. ...
As more freedoms disappear toward extinction, it seems as if more rights of the individuals disappear, falling into the shadows, each voice calls out, ignored by the most powerful, corruption plaguing them long enough to line their pockets, even the men and women who sacrificed their very lives stand ignored when help is needed, liberties are falling, like countless toppled prized resources, as symbols fade, painted again by the poor, with their own blood, while each moment watched under...
The paths of most flowers left behind, as each hour to hour, passes, leaving like a whisper, even the songs of Summer fade as the feathered composers turn their thoughts to the south, while the leaves will be dressing and painting themselves for the play, colors flowing to bathe our eyes let the warm days go rest, as more clouds gather to cover the soft dying days, but thoughts and sighs remain,
I used to crawl, I used to walk, I used to run, chasing the wind, leap frog, playing king of the mountain, over the hills and through the woods to grandma's house I would go, more like just a little distance through a cornfield that separated us, splashing in the creek, tag, then run away, growing up, growing older, I still ran, cross country, track in high school, hiking, camping, all active things I can't do anymore, my arms still work, my legs just gave up,...