A brother and sister went for a walk.
They laughed out loud and had a talk.
Time flew by as they hiked the trail.
They sat for a break but their lunch was stale.
The shadows grew long as the sun sank low.
Which way was home, they didn’t know.
With all seeming lost there’s no place to hide.
If light’s to be seen they’ve only stars to guide.
Paths disappear beneath feet unseen.
Hands reach out for some space between.
The sounds of night are now loud and clear.
Eyes open wide seeing nothing but fear.
Imagination filled their weary heads.
The siblings now dreamt of their cozy beds.
But attention’s gone when fantasy’s there.
The pair separate and nightmares they share.
Shrieks and howls soon filled the wood.
The children screamed as they should.
Hours melted and death was thought.
Then a flashlight seen and home they’re brought.
The morning today was gray,
but the groundhog’s done his thing.
With only a few weeks to go,
we’re soon to hear the birdies sing.
Flowers are soon to blossom,
trees will soon be green.
The air will be growing warmer,
bees will soon be seen.
Bug bites soon will fester;
poison ivy’s soon to itch.
Rain will pour in buckets,
isn’t the spring a bitch.
I could be optimistic,
glad that the winter’s gone.
I should be really happy,
cos soon I’ll see my lawn.
But with the season’s change,
our time too does pass.
And as I grow ever older,
I’m becoming a pain in the ass.
The groundhog’s soon to wake, but I don’t really care.
I’m always warm and cozy any time of year.
Winters always pass and spring will always follow.
Summers heat the flesh, autumn the vibrancy we all know.
Nights share their endless stars, days our lives are bright.
Time’s just the space between. The universe knows what’s right.
Friends and family fill our needs, puts our minds at ease.
A special someone shares it all and all that we please.
Mine’s lovely in the morning and more beautiful by noon.
Evenings’ she’s truly stunning beneath the glowing moon.
She’s innocent when sleeping, a little naughty when she’s not.
And I am overjoyed with this special love we’ve got.
Hand in hand and toes to toes,
we’re cheek to cheek and nose to nose.
Intermeshed we’re holding tight,
bliss is shared in the morning light.
Our hearts melting in winter skies,
volumes heard in her dreamy eyes,
The sun is shining and spring is near.
Though not to hurry, our love is here.
I woke today to see the sun,
to watch it rise my day begun.
But the clouds got in the way.
So I’ll have to wait another day.
But life goes on as it should.
I wouldn’t change it if I could.
A day of gray won’t get me down.
I’m alive, so I can’t frown.
A start is good, but to finish is best.
The time between is just a test.
We make the grade when we rise.
And see the world through others’ eyes.
The dawn was brilliant somewhere for sure.
And sunny thoughts will warm the pure.
So today I write in the dimmest of light,
surely better than endless night.
I’ve seen the dark as many do.
Ups and downs are nothing new.
But clouds do part and linings exposed.
So I’ll save the gloom till my eyes stay closed.
My poor guitar’s in need of strumming.
My morning poem’s not forthcoming.
Seems a house weighs on my brain.
Some might say that I’m insane.
But in the hills where trees abound,
behind a stone wall my paradise found.
A storied life I’m sure it’s had.
The next chapter’s mine and I’m glad.
Its life began in seventeen twenty.
Surely there are creaks and drafts aplenty.
It’s quite unusual, just one of a few.
It’s also quite large, it’s almost two.
Are there spirits? I don’t know.
But if there are I’m sure they’ll show.
And if there’s not that’s OK.
Maybe I’ll be one someday.
When values are charismatic
and thought becomes plutocratic,
participation is devoid.
Then hardship is systematic.
When this world seems dramatic
and our head’s full of static,
anger’s then employed.
And hate becomes pragmatic.
When life, it seems erratic
and joy becomes sporadic,
worry fills the void.
Then the gloom is traumatic.
When time itself is problematic
and the future’s enigmatic,
trust is then destroyed.
And solitude becomes symptomatic.
But when we are diplomatic
and compassion’s automatic,
violence we avoid.
Then love is democratic.