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
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
One Step
Looking at myself in the mirror, I see myself all wrong, Causing me to doubt the truth I had known for so long, When left seems like right, surely something isn’t right, Maybe it was the reflection, or perchance the
Mortal Angel
If such things were true, an angel’s life should be a fairytale, But you don’t find them more different than this one’s tale, Like those winged-one, you don’t see her fly away, And you begin to really believe she is