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Saturday, November 17, 2012


Wer’st I a child born of silver hair
lying on a pillar posted bed
stuffed animals larger than myself
and still much room to spare

Wer’st I a child whose parents care
never raise to me their hand or voice
in the midst of other portentous noise
they’d shelter me in an embracing lair

Wer’st my days not filled with laughter
When we’d walk hand in hand
Through wilderness and sun scape flora
and such fondness ever after

Wer’st this be true my tears my heart
would not labor nor my longings be alone
then love and me
would not be so far apart

Tuesday, November 13, 2012


Darkness in the early morning hours
bring a stream of thoughts
that conjure up the past
and give me pause to question
why the time allotted to me
is filled with such depth of query

If I could sleep
I’d choose the dreams
of all the smiles
and all the joy
that has befallen me
I’d choose the love
that has touched me from
all who have shared in it

My days are long
when sleep hides from
my closed eyes for then
I have those daylight reveries
with real life interspersed
and I see all is much
unlike the dreams I
wish to dream

But then I think of the
wondrousness that has filled
my cornucopia of where
my dreams come from
and then I open my eyes
and let the light in
so that when I sleep again
I will have more to choose