Crossroads
Every so often, we set out, to get somewhere in life, Only to be taken for a ride, by this guide they call life, Leaves me wondering, what is to take, and who is taken, But make no mistake about
Petunias
Flowering by the roadside, beside the softest footfall, Towering before you, along the lengths of many a wall, Violets, pinks, whites, blues, more colours than you can call, And yet, seen and unknown, like the spring in every fall. The
Sunflower
Very few acknowledge that the day really begins at night, At the stroke of midnight, the wings of morning take flight, Leaving darkness behind, for the resplendence of the sun, And dejection too finally gives way, to the possibilities of
Tranquility
Soft and inquiring, like the chirping of the first bird, Slowly joined by others, yet soft, as if almost never heard, That is all I can remember about your first word, There were more important things that then occurred. At
Oblivion
Walking amidst the sights, I nearly felt myself lost, Gypsies all around, selling trinkets at an enviable cost, The sun was just beginning to rise over the last tent, Such an aura of heavenly joy to this beautiful day it