Poem | |
An ember sparked will softly glow,
and fed by fuel, will grow and grow.
I once was cinder, sparked by you,
first timid. . . till the flames then grew.
And so our start was touch of dawn,
with amber hue, for I was drawn
to eyes so welcoming and warm
I never guessed you’d do me harm.
Like morning glory, love in June
the rapture of mid-afternoon,
romance of which the ancients wrote,
our passion had no antidote.
And with the dusk, though scarlet tinged,
our love began to come unhinged,
for clouds arrived, which filled your eyes,
extinguishing bright twilight skies.
With cold of night came shadows’ pall,
and I could not tear down your wall.
By midnight’s hour, the fire was dead.
Mere ashes smoldered in its stead.
You left, and should you reappear,
I’ve vowed to shun you. Now I fear
the very thing for which I yearn -
one touch. . . and then again - to burn.
For John Heck's contest: Love - It Heals & It Hurts
Poem | |
Each day Annie Lesley opened a can
Her eighty-six-year-old hands trembling
As she sat with her cat and ate pet food
What is wrong with this elder’s rendering?
Pride swallowed to remain independent
Large, sunken eyes peered from her weathered face
Her late spouse a decorated hero
Annie’s lifestyle a national disgrace
More enlightened cultures all over the world
Have revered their seniors throughout history
Asians and Native Americans
Are just two who honor their ancestry
Polynesians, other Pacific tribes
Respect the wisdom that comes with age
Seniors are welcome in family homes
But here in the states they’re placed in a cage
Bone-thin Annie Lesley chose to be free
Amazing neighbors with her endurance
When social services tried to intervene
She fought with remarkable resilience
Old photos on walls told many great tales
But only purring Tibby was listening
Each morning she rose to care for her cat
Until the day that Tibby went missing
In tears she claimed he must have been poisoned
Though in cat years he was older than she
Each day she sat by the window, staring
Awaiting the homecoming of Tibby
She’d been abandoned by society
Lost in the world’s most “progressive” nation
For sacrificing her spouse in World War II
Annie received little compensation
This widowed war bride never had children
Her mate had met his fate in Normandy
Posthumous awards she dusted each day
Annie’s life was defined by loyalty
To a man and a cat who never came home
And the vigil she kept all alone
Ended quietly one warm summer night
When an angel came to take Annie home
With a can of cat food in hand when found
Annie had nothing else to eat in her house
This is the way a veteran’s wife died
And tear stains had blemished her faded blouse
Although seniors’ wisdom is heeded
In societies that grow from history
Too many like Annie lead lonely lives
Wisdom untapped, they die in poverty
Poem | |
I want to touch your life
and leave a mark ...
... a deep impression ...
So you will think of me
and of my smile ...
... my sweet expression ...
I long to touch your life
and leave a sign ...
... a warm inscription ...
So you will care for me
and keep in mind ...
... a clear description ...
I need to touch your life
and leave a joy ..,.
... an inspiration ...
So you will love me soon
in reality ...
... not imagination ...
*For S.K.A.T.'s give it to me straight contest ...
Poem | |
Part I: Ice
He shines like silver midnight moon -
cool marble statue, this tycoon.
And though he makes the ladies swoon,
of ice he’s hewn.; of ice he’s hewn.
He’s poker-faced and can deceive
competitors and can achieve
most anything, but can’t conceive
of Genevieve, of Genevieve.
Like Neptune, distant from the sun -
relationships he chose to shun.
He thought the search for love was done.
He has no one; he has no one.
Now love’s allure has come his way.
What will he do? What will he say?
Will he grab hold, beg love to stay,
or let it stray? Or let it stray?
Part II: Fire
This dragoness disguised in lace -
passion’s flower with angel’s face,
precisely picks the time and place
each dream to chase, each dream to chase.
Like ink the color red, she stains
the hearts of those whose love she drains,
and then she leaves when naught remains
No lust she feigns; no lust she feigns.
And now there’s one who would suffice.
For him alone, she’d sacrifice
her everything, so he of ice
she must entice, she must entice.
So Genevieve now strikes the flame.
Will man of ice his love proclaim?
Beneath her fire and his cold frame,
they’re both the same. They’re both the same.
By Andrea Dietrich
For Carol Brown's FIRE And ICE Poetry Contest
and now for PD's Best Love poem 3 Poetry Contest
Poem | |
"A Near-Death Experience of A Sweetheart"
Floating through a corridor between two different Worlds
among white fluffy clouds and shimmering stars awhile wind unfurls
racing into darkness: destination to death's door
living in a heavenly kingdom ... forevermore ...
Traveling through deep tunnel as cold fingers touch
walls of blackened essence creating thoughts to clutch
quickly toward a bright white light of peace
my soul and spirit being experienced soft release ...
Rushing to a Paradise, landing on streets of gold
seeing the Face of God so clearly to behold
longing to embrace my dear departed family
loved ones who had gone before to their final destiny ...
Their captivating smiles excited my soul
sharing love once more as was in their earthly roll
but a huge white Angel stood between my track
he spoke mentally "child of God you must go back.
And yet, I was not sad but happy to have seen
my precious treasured relatives cuddled by Supreme Being
why? I questioned must I return to Planet Earth?
Angel responed not your time to stay
your purpose unfulfilled for God to cherish every day ...
Suddenly transported through the tunnel smelling flowers
a jorney taking minutes but feeling like hours
and soon the sights and sounds ignited quiet hospital room
while my loved ones endured possibility of doom ...
My husband was squeezing my hand so tight I felt his love
as my children sobbed so loud praying to above
my eyes opened wide as I inhaled a breath
escaping to my body while I avoided Death ...
This near-death experience was an inspiration
for another realm exists in utter fascination
for now the message lives to enjoy both love and life
have no fear for death is harmless and erases strife ...
Hover close to God and always give Him thankxxx
through trials and tribulations He relieves all angst
Treasure every moment and anticipate the end
a beutiful place is waiting reuniting family and friends ...
Kisses and hugs replaced those solitary tears
knowing what lies ahead extinguishes all fears
please celebrate the gift of life in grateful attitude
Eternity is awesome with unending interlude ...
Poem | |
When the crimson rose has faded
And our day at last is done;
In the forest dark and shaded
Blows the tempest, dims the sun.
When the night holds us together
Shall forgiveness mend the past
Will despair bring sunny weather
And heal our hearts at last?
If we hide within the shadows
Will you stay here close to me;
Will we walk forgotten meadows
Or sail a foreign sea?
In vain the hour must reap
What we gathered in the sun;
And love's harvest now will weep
For the battle never won.
Within the world's disgrace
In the hour of Nevermore;
Will there be another race
To a far-off fabled shore?
We promised love tomorrow
We preen with pride today
Now pride and love will borrow
The tears of yesterday.
Our pride we now confess it
Is a sin that couldn't last;
Our passion if we kiss it
Is like a dream now passed.
While fragrance scents the garden
And the misty moon rides high;
The wind whispers a pardon
When love goes passing by.
Poem | |
blue velvet sky caresses
pink cotton candy clouds
beneath a gold umbrella
red heartbeats breathing loud.
a yellow Sun kisses skin
of silky bronze glowation
footprints carve love in brown sand
while white waves crest formation.
green trees hide secret embrace
while purple passion prowls
viewing an orange sunset
rose petals play on towels.
silvery stars illuminate beach
as amber heavens sleep
magenta magic smiles so sweet
chase black and grey to ocean's deep.
...crayola rainbow lovers' leap ...
*Written by: Linda-Marie The "Sweetheart" of P.S.
*For Tracie's Paint The World Contest ...
Poem | |
"Listen! to the Heart"
every heart strums strings of symphony
an open book exploring dreams and fantasies
the lovebeat touches emotions and feelings serene
as candy-filled caramel cremes.
every heart twirls in tune to love and romance
a paradox portrait of lovers in a trance
echoing laughter in harmonious haven
or a fickle falsetto black as a raven.
every heart is a treasure chest of precious jewels
as tenderness comforts those heartaches so cruel
the heart always gives; suddenly takes away
so listen to the heart; hear the words it must say.
Poem | |
The night sky awakens from a long days slumber
peers with its eyes down upon us large in number.
The moon is like an orchestra full with every instrument playing.
A falling star sings "Candle In the Wind" on its descent swaying
like a faintly whispered lullaby of Columba drawing me in.
Our lips lock in a singular motion, surrenders, skin on skin.
Our love is stellar, the magnificence of a galaxy, a flood
of blessed light pure, entangles us in each others blood.
I find solace in your touch, but how it leaves me faint
still, brave like Orion I engage you without restraint.
Naked, raw in the aura of the midnight's luster
we undulate to the rhythm of stars in a cluster.
Marvel the milky way, its multitudes of constellations.
Roll in the heavens with its infinitudes of sensations.
The exhilaration of zero gravity our movements free
we explore the vast regions of this cosmic black sea.
Together we surf an evening of carnal pleasures
in these moments discover all the worlds treasures.
Falling into the freedom, with stardust in our hair,
A feeling so intense, that no education could prepare.
With every stroke of the skies nightly portrait of perfection,
Inspirational kisses, under the microscope, intricate inspection.
This power of passion caressing ever second of our being,
In your eyes it is beyond forever that I am seeing.
Written in the stars, the midnight sky writes our history,
Embrace the power of perfection, we are covered in mystery.
Poem | |
Over the top lads, for old Blighty! Hold the colours high!
Say a little prayer for me, for this summer day we die.
My brothers from the ripened field and blackened mill, shop floor,
Your brother in a killing field to fight a rich man’s war.
In bloodied mud and shattered wood, fight legions of the brave,
Unwitting youth, you’ll do your duty until you’re in the grave.
A sergeant greets a fresh-faced boy, “welcome to the slaughter!”
Here you die from three diseases, bullet, gas or mortar.
In arms we fight together and in leaden hails we pass,
We die amongst the filth and stench that once was verdant grass.
“In the morning we will remember them” we hear the leaders call,
Those fickle words of history, will not remember us all.
Poem | |
GREEN, GREEN, GREEN!!!
My name is Jade Shamrock Green.
I will not eat one single green bean.
When I get mad, I turn green.
I wear my favorite green jeans.
I am hypnotize by the color green.
Not every green path leads to a flowing stream.
I lay on the grass so green.
I won a jackpot of green.
To visit the Green Mountains in Vermont is like a dream.
My eyes are shaded green.
My jealousy comes in the color green.
I diet on green veggies that are lean.
The Green Bay Packers are my favorite team.
I believe all frogs should come in green.
It’s a family gift to carry a green thumb gene.
My garden has the greenest life I have ever seen.
Lemons are yellow, but limes are green.
The Irish do not all believe in green.
In my greenhouse all, the plants are full of good self-esteem.
I'm the jester who wore a green beret for the king and queen.
The unripe sour apple is moldy green!
Flicking me a green bugger is gross and mean.
Why do all leprechauns wear color green?
Not all clovers have only three leafs of green.
Green is the middle color of the rainbow team.
Good Luck, Care Bear's charming eyes are emerald green.
My favorite color has always been green.
This is all about wearing green on March the seventeen.
. (a) S.K.A.T. POETRY (re-post) by;p.d.
. 3-17-10 (update) 3-17-11
Poem | |
"Sequence of Love"
Love possesses many faces
occurring in romantic places
culminated by embraces ...
Love illuminates the soul
intertwining halves to whole
fulfilling a human, earthly role ...
Love radiates rare quality
increasing to a sweet degree
of everlasting ecstasy ...
Love invades enchantingly
perhaps, appears repeatedly,
but only once, comes sacredly ... eventually ...
Poem | |
The wind billows out from the seat of his britches
With determined eyes, skinned knuckles and knees
He climbs up the rails nailed from old cedar pieces
To the uppermost yoke of the old pecan tree
He is Captain on board, in pretend salty breezes
From his perch in the bird's nest, the world in his view
A small town boy, who has never seen oceans
In the happiest place, where a boy's dreams come true
While the cornstalks stand duty, wavy pumpkin vine waters
He breaks off a branch and a sword fight ensues..
He says "Tally Ho...Land Ahoy!!" to his crew
Dogs are barking below, and he shouts out a warning
There are sharks all around, so his shipmates must heed
He is Master Commander, the ruler of nations
He dreams of adventure from his loft in the tree
As he watches the clouds sail across a blue sea
Till his mother calls him in, for his suppertime leave
Well, little boys grow, and a childhood will fade
The leaf of the pecan, no longer holds shade
Now a stump of the tree, is all that is left
Yet the memory still thrives, so deep in his breast
When the weight of the world comes tumbling down
He visits this place with the stump in the ground
The rings wrap around him, to take him aboard
To the place of his childhood, a place he adored
Tonight he will sleep in a bed of contentment
In his bunk he will dream of his loft in the tree
Tomorrow he'll climb up the steps to his vessel
Tomorrow he'll be where the eagles fly free....
Poem | |
The world as we know it is coming to an end
I'm sending Morse Code out to my only friend
It takes a lot of dash dash dot dot dots
I'm powering this message with a hundred watts
I am receiving you loud and clear
For our world I too do fear
Sadly man’s actions are to blame
We should hang our heads in shame
Global warming, a hole in the ozone layer
All this negativity, I hate being a naysayer
Let's come together, get tough, crack down
We need to start turning this trend around
Mother Earth is sending us all of the symptoms
To get our act together before self destruction comes.
Written in the clouds are codes my friend,
Warning us that the blue sky may end
We need to heal the world today
Or misery will surely come our way
Don’t cut trees down let nature heal
Soon new growth, our earth will reveal
I'm sending you this message and expect a return
Look what we did in the past and we can learn
Get off your hands, actions speak louder than words
Time to save the rivers, the oceans, the trees, the birds
Poem | |
You have all heard I am sure of the three musketeers
The group with the swords not the ones with the funny ears
Reminds me of a joke that right here would apply
There are three kinds of people I tell you no lie
Those who are really quite good at math
And those who are not and that's that
They were the three musketeers but they were four
Their math was bad not three, four and no more
I hope you're all still with me, I'm not trying to be a pest
I need you to follow me because at the end there's a test
There is Casarah
Yeah and hurrah
She is a good ma
Then there is Tim
You should know him
He's tall and trim
And finally there is the kind hearted Jan
From England she's the one with no tan
Coy and demure behind her fancy fan
If you kept count that makes three
Who can argue. You'd have to agree.
Now we have arrived at what I am trying to say
I've just joined them and I quite enjoy sword play
Do you see? I am number four.
I'll just walk through their door.
That makes me the best, the fillet mignon
It turns out that I am frikin' D'Artagnan.
Poem | |
An ocean tumbles through dreams of you. In depths unknown,
I float above. Oh, how I long to dive beneath your surface,
yet I am timid in matters of love. If brave, I’d have shown
you the whole of my gushing heart, no less than tides of bliss.
Seeking depths unknown, I long to dive beneath your surface.
Searching your eyes, I want for treasures lost on the ocean’s floor.
The sun, like a gold coin, drops, splashing this face of regret. I blush
in secret thoughts of you and turn away from the endless shore.
A swoop from seagulls catches the light of your smile and breaks the hush
of late sky. Turning away from the endless shore of regret, I blush.
My lonely shore may flood, a wish to bathe in the caress of you
granted. I shall break from fear, to brave a rolling river between us.
Down current, I’ll swim until I reach your ocean of sparkling blues.
I would drown in the waves of your uncharted waters. Glorious
would be death in the caress of you, your uncharted waters…glorious.
by Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, 1/18/2015,
for Craig Cornish's Manassian Quintain Contest,
Poem | |
Softly and sadly
Up on the knoll;
The vesper bell
Begins to toll.
Lock all the doors
Blow out the light;
The hour is late
Sleep comes with the night.
Close all the windows
Smother the fire;
Sound slips into silence
When mortals retire.
Downstairs is deserted
No one in the hall
Nirvana of sleep
Rules over all.
A day's work completed
Now done like the day;
Rest is now needed
For those made of clay.
How soft is the night
Where dark shadows fall;
The seduction of sleep
Captures us all.
Poem | |
My dress is made of fine peach coloured* lace
Hair is in ringlets, which frames my pretty face
The lights in the room cast a romantic glow
My first ever ball; I must go with the flow
The orchestra strikes up a wonderful tune
Ladies and gentlemen glide round the room
I stand on the sidelines I am oh so very shy
Then a dashing young man catches my eye
I smile at him, then I coyly avert my eyes
I find him so handsome; that I cannot disguise
He reaches tenderly for my awaiting hand
We move to the dance floor; oh it is so grand
His arm wrapped around my tiny waist
We dance to the music, there is no haste
So full of excitement at the hope of romance
I float round the room at my very first dance
At the end of the dance he bows down low
My heart is aflutter I hope this does not show
He leads me gently to the side of the room
Sweet roses enchant us, we smell their perfume
Time flies by so fast and we dance all night
He looks in my green eyes and to my delight
Whispers so gently those words I long to hear
You simply are the belle of the ball my dear
He reaches out gently and kisses my hand
My first ever ball has been oh so grand
Sadly now it is time for me to depart
I bid adieu to the man who has stolen my heart
*English spelling used
Contest: Ballroom Delights
Sponsor Isaiah Zerbst
~awarded 1st place~
Poem | |
The shining light hides behind my eyes,
Comes in a super nova surprise
My spirit glides into the skies,
Spreading the perfect heat like the sunrise
I was like a diamond under the beauty of the ocean!
My current rides out with smooth motions,
Leaving a taste with intense emotion
Captured by my tides, sunk to my love potion
The sun sends my waves like a mirage of snow
I got the moon to favor upon my glow
With every star touching my inner soul
A glimpse of darkness in my light entwining with a massive flow
Blinded by my own ECLIPSE!
My sun & moon collide
Until the day we both touch lips
Poem | |
We will walk then, you and I
When daylight shuts her weary eye;
Down the streets where beggars sleep
And drug crazed addicts spend their keep.
On streets that wind through thick and thin
Past monuments of broken sin
The painted whores who smile a lot
A rejected child that time forgot.
The evening hymn that sorrows sing
The call to prayer that church bells ring;
The sounds and smells that rape a city
The calls for help that won't find pity.
Do we have time to heal the curse
That captures all the universe
Or would it really be worthwhile
To quell the question with a smile?
But we have walked these streets before
And hoped our ears could dim the roar
Of silence gripping cold nightmares
That come unbidden up the stairs.
We share the night with lesser fools
Who stake their plight without sound rules
For each new challenge finds old pain
That lives to give then comes again.
Poem | |
A few poems written by Chan Hurst, (Just That Archaic Poet)
I hope that we can find some comfort in them at this sad time.
"A Rational Explanation"
What must I do to see this through-
Unlock the world I never knew?
For all I've seen hath been untrue,
As all I've felt hath plagued me, too!
I am no more, past Deaths before
I've reached the end of Living War-
(to see through eyes both blind and closed)
A life to touch, but never know...
"Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep"
Every day, to God I pray
For answers to Life's enigmas
Patience lays in wait to stay-
To cleanse our Social Stigmas
We pass the time in our idle Dreams:
Like fallen stars in singing streams
"A Happy Ending"
Remorse and regret, I mustn't forget
Remind me that Life is a process of Learning
Indeed for I sorrow'd; 'twas always upset
As the Truth was met with painful discerning
But now my eyes are open-wide,
Grew to love what I once despised
I am no longer sick inside-
I just feel happy to be alive
"A Master's Approval"
No happier could I ever be,
(Or feel a joy's enormity!)
Than to know a Soul as Poe-
Would say he likes my poetry!
"The Poets I Hope to Meet in Heaven"
I pray that in my Eternity,
I'll meet Shelley, Poe and Emily
That we'll all sit down at a table round,
And at length discuss our Poetry!
And Longfellow, lest we forget
Lord Byron, Shakespeare, and beloved Keats!
If I prove their favorite Poet,
I could accomplish no greater feat!
For all my many silly musings,
This one I covet above the rest
For my Soul's toil- finally proving
That the Masters love me best!
"Heaven For A Poet" by Kelly Deschler
My own piece of heaven, a quiet little nook,
With only the finest parchment in a leather book,
A feather quill pen and an ocean of ink,
My thoughts would never stop to think,
Every single line I write would rhyme,
My poetry would be beautiful and sublime,
I'd be entertained daily, by Dr. Seuss,
And, put to bed nightly, by Mother Goose,
Lessons from Byron, Shelley, Coleridge and Poe,
Teaching me every single thing that they know.
My own piece of heaven, will have to wait,
Until one day, when I must meet my fate,
So, for now I will have to be content,
With my own words that may be heaven sent,
Inspiration from my idols is all I need,
Writing poetry in a notebook from Mead,
With this cheap, plastic Bic pen,
And a dream to be, just like them.
This poem was one of mine that Chan had faved, so I thought it would be appropriate to share this now and dedicate it to him.
I will always miss you, BP, my brother in poetry, but I sense that you are smiling down on us now.
I know that Chan idolized Edgar Allan Poe. I remember him telling me that someday,
he wanted to share a table in heaven with that "good ol' E.A. Poe".
So, Chan, if that is what you're doing now, I envy you, my friend!
And, you said that you would personally invite me to that little gathering, remember? :)
Poem | |
When I lay me down to sleep,
And cry the tears that sinners weep;
To speak the words of a contrite prayer,
And know that someone listens there.
He cares for sheep that have gone astray,
Who willfully wander their own way;
They vex the pride that hides within,
And drink the bitter cup of sin.
The web of lies and dark deception,
Lie in defeat of Light’s conception;
To capture all and destroy life,
With passion’s fire and human strife
We need to plant the gospel vine,
Where evil rules and saints repine.
While martyrs lead with ransomed prayer,
With hope for life that tarries there.
Blood that was shed on Calvary,
Set slaves of transgression wholly free.
So we rise from the grave to seek reward,
Giving praise to our risen Lord.
Poem | |
Coral life forms in copious swarms
Feast in the Cambrian chyme
Dividing their cells and forming their shells
To end on the sea floor as lime
Tectonic churning and magma upturning
Renders marble whiter than bone
The marble is mined, but the cutters are blind
To the angel confined in the stone
A young sculptor arose, with a bend in his nose
And a transcendent creative spark
Charged with ambition to fulfill a commission
An angel for St. Dominc's Ark
An artist sublime who will live for all time
His genius is to see things not shown
For an angel to achieve he first has to perceive
Its splendor enclosed in the stone
At dawning's first glow he surveys the tableau
Of the blocks the stone cutters supplied
In some he sees dreams of potential themes
But only one holds an angel inside
“A beautiful thing never gives so much pain
As does failing to hear it and see it.”
The block that he chose was rejected by those
Who then lied and claimed to foresee it
With talent and skill he falls to with a will
Surrounded by rubble and relic
His method you see, for the angel to free
Is to remove all the bits not angelic
Michelangelo’s art for all time stands apart
But there's something further to heed
For there's a bit more to the fine metaphor
In the tale of the angel he freed
“A beautiful thing never gives so much pain
As does failing to hear it and see it.”
For in all our insides a bright angel abides
And is just waiting for something to free it
To remove all the parts which harden our hearts
And chip out the darkness and pride
To smooth the rough patches and polish the scratches
And unshackle the angel inside
Poem | |
darkness come caress me now
and as I die I weep
my body lies here limp and
I prepare myself for eternal
a million miles of starry skies
to me they look like sparkling
that come to watch me die
but then they're blocked from
by a deity with soft black wings
i know he's here to comfort
though death is what he brings
it feels as though he loves me
he strips my clothes away
his wings caress me now as he
and we begin to sway
he holds me close to his chest
as a mother holds her child
sheltering me as i leave
the wicked and the wild
and i can succumb
because now i feel so weak
then i see a tear
fall from his eyes and wet my
it's over now he kisses me
he longs to taste my breath
and as if he longed for more
he sucks it from my chest
his lips linger over mine
for he knows when he pulls
the fire in me that screamed to
will not see another day
Darkness come caress me now
and as i die he weeps
and now that i feel no longer
he lulls me off to sleep
Poem | |
Shadowed in the silent room, the day is almost done
Dusk climbs in through the window glass, with one last ray of sun
I start the task, climb on a chair, reach up to shelves so high
to mother's boxes neatly stacked, as the dust gets in my eyes
I take one down, to look inside and sit upon a chair
I find some musty linens, laces needing some repair
I also find old photographs, the year was '42
Her face was smooth as porcelian, with life still young and new
Old documents and letters, a history unveiled
Her letters, torn and yellowed, such stories they would tell
The next box held some china, so lovingly embellished
And then I found a book of verse, inscribed with poems she relished
Some dresses stained and wrinkled, their fabric thin and tattered
Were once a thing of beauty, as if they really mattered
Her jewelry, gold and silver, some lovely rings and brooches
A warm sensation circles me, her presence now approaches
I sense a change come over me, and fleeting leave of gloom
The darkness of the evening lifts, as sunlight fills the room
She wraps her warmth around me, her fragrance in the air
My loneliness is free to go, I know that she is there
Among these things, I find the last, the smallest box of all
Inside it are the baby clothes, I wore when I was small
A letter there to tell me that she knows the tears I've cried
Her words of love that never died, they fill me up inside
These treasures speak her words to me, and now that I am grown
She wants to tell her story, those parts I've never known
I've heard her voice, while sitting here, among her china flowers
I"ve found such peace, she's next to me, to spend these quiet hours