dark small cloud dropped rain.
still, the small birds sing

I live simply,
Living simply is not being poor,
It's being authentic,
True to yourself,
Writing your own scripts.
I dress simply,
But my clothes are cut well and fitted well,
That shows grace and elegance.
Though  I am not pretty,
I carry a childlike smile and humility.
Sometimes people think I am nobody,
And want me to be like everybody,
They can sometimes be rude,
But I am content,
With what I am and what I have.
8/5/2024

On the Center Island embankment
Mother Mallard sits on her eggs 24-29 days
One hour twice a day in the sunshine,rays
She must leaves her eggs unprotected
Starvation never realizes the unexpected

Mrs. Fiddle and Mr. Faddle
Had eight eggs under their care
Predation, Herons claimed seven there
A perfect duckling name Little Paddle
The only Duckling to survive

Fluffy, healthy, strong Full of energy alive
Fiddle and Faddle guarded Little Paddle
From dillydallying around
For a wild Little Paddle
Mischief can easily be found

All mallard ducks pair off The same way
Pecking order, preservation at play
Mother Mallards sit distant from the flock
Mrs.Fiddle Mr. Faddle and Little Paddle
Animal instincts stay distant from the dock

One fine day A mishap dismay
Wiggle and waddle they progressed
Refreshed, Digressed and obsessed
They search for their missing Little Paddle

Under a Elderly Mother Mallard’s wing
A small Beak seen it’s the cutest little thing
Out pops Little Paddle
squeaking and squawking “ here I am”

Fiddle and Faddle tired of worry walking
Mrs. Fiddle pitched a fit, spit and Spatial
A plangent tangent, of loss, of pain
But for a Little Paddle it was just a game

Harmoniously Honking all is right as rain
Mrs. Fiddle and Mr. Faddle
Have a heck of a time gripping the rattle
The parenting reins in the saddle

Growing quickly with giggles and gaggles
The adventures of Little Paddle

silence waits for all noise
to cease

she will let you enter
her realms

when your effort
matches her solitude.

The river will flow ceaseless
The sapling will be a tree
Will sing in happiness
The new you and the new me.

The sky will inspire a song
The birds will chirp in morn
Seasons will duly come along
Day and night will be born.

You won't know but we'll meet
Under the canopy of stars
Our love will again be sweet
Through all the blushes and scars.

We shall emerge anew again
Lost we never will be
Under the sun and pouring rain
There'll be a new you and me.

Losing you
before you died
was almost as hard
as saying goodbye

almost

when logic & reason
slipped the knot
& your beautiful mind
was left to rot

the fading in
and fading out
your stellar confidence
now scattered with doubt

your light would flicker
a dwindling flame
deep blue eyes searching
but still losing my name

it went on like this
bleeding out hope each day
fleeting lucidity until
all bright faded away

your crystal blue eyes
still lovely but now dulled
death room waiting agony
as your life slowly annulled

I miss you still deeply
after all these years
& the pain you suffered
still draws gnarled tears

©J.C.

You're not the last to hurt her, man,
She wishes she could say you were,
She's glad to say you won't be. Shan,
Is't not? But you'll deny as per, as per.

She was a thorn within your side,
A feather to get off your chest,
You let it go, you let it bide,
You cursed her, wished her all the best.

You're not the last to hurt her, man -
Her husband has that honour -
Hug her best verse as best you can,
And never say you won her.

I want so many things
Yet those things are unknown

“Simply, I am not the woman I’d convinced myself I was.
And,
I live in fear
That my core is the very essence of what I despise in others”