Bliss comes in many forms,chocolate ice creamwith rice krispies,granola in my yogurt,the smell of baking bread,finding notesfrom long-lost friendstucked into the pagesof a tattered book,the tiny red headthat
Poetry
I have been writing poetry since the 2nd grade. Why stop now?
Poetry
Sunday Morning Sunlight
A quiet chill Redolent of last nights fire A tang trapped in the dew That pocks the lawn with a thousand bursts Like a carpet of sleeping fireflies
Poetry
Salt Air And Memories
Deep sea waits, flexing its’ fingers as it looks skyward Logs glisten in the sun, freshly rained on – hopeful Pebbles wait softly sighing in the wake of
Poetry
Mother Earth
The softness of the sunlight drifting featherlike on the wings of a dove lyrical mantra borne on the winds swaying the grass that waves from here unto tomorrow