Love crosses the color line and claims itself.  
Love listens to hear the sounds of Angels
and learns to speak in song.  

From words that hold hands,
Love spaces itself through the wind and above the sand,
Finding footsteps to fit feet too little,
That walked so far to find home.  
A Savior, a Lord, a Master.
Feet no longer left to roam.

God grant me, hear my call,
Mark my footsteps lest I fall.
My Counselor, my Healer, my every saving Grace.
Make my peace my only resting place.

Heros

Medallion on the spine.  A golden paper label.

When in the eve of a hallowed day
And the calm has long since come,
Where a place is made for those
Whose time has become one.

Think of he who holds the night
In the palm of his hand.
Then honor what has come to light
To define the noble man.

History tells of his goodly deeds,
His labor of his love,
His devotion is of his galant way,
His solemn vow, the moon above.

From:  Monet's impression of A Summer's Day
To:  "The starry, starry night" of Vangough's way
Finds the mystery from artistry of canvas and ink
--And gives my mind a moment's think.

What now does it render,
Of both color and spendor
What pros ever written
Might it tell.

When once unknown and now,
Never to be forgotten
Lives
That never end.

Oil spills onto paper
From an eye's Moment in time
Now rewrites its history
In rhyme.

With Monet of my right
And Van Gough of my left
Balances between the two,
Talent just known to few.

I gather my thoughts
of day and night
And place them
Whole and new.

A transference  of time and hour
Through portals of memoired pasts
Bring memorials of perfect views
That last, and last, and last.

Kathy S. Dillard
083008

There once was an old man from Nantucket
Who spent his life kicking a bucket.
Then one day unaware
He had found nothing there
A garden ended his journey and arose he did just to pluck it.

...Take Time To Smell The Roses #1
Kathy S. Dillard

Jesus

Wipes my eyes and sits me down
He lifts my spirit to higher ground.
In the cradle of His arms,
He rocks my mind,

In Him I find Peace.

The perfect life and a perfect way,
I learn my lesson day by day.  
I remember Him,
In service and in truth

When I pray.  

I find consolation in knowing CHRIST,
The sad sad yearnings I no longer fight.  
CHRIST is my Savior and Jesus was my friend.  
Peace and love I have within.

Amen
090516

In the briar meadow
Where the wind swings long and low,
Is the memory of a hidden path
Little women may not know.

The rancid smell of Crimson paint
Of Cupid's Scarlet Bow,
Scars its victim one by one,
A branding iron's foe.

It seals the fate of little girls
Before they come to be,
Who hide themselves to kindly peek
Upon the doe of The Briar Patches' knee.

The sweet sweet savor of blackberries
Growing wild along the lane
Delay return as all consumed
The berries from Orchid Lane.

The Whisper of the Willow Trees
That hide the Sacred Kiss
Loft the Billowing Sounds
Of a young lovers' hopeful wish.

But fate has never faltered
A Secret only the Willow know,
Why the Holy Crimson stain
Drips upon the Briar's doe.

Now the Garden only fills
The air of aged chills
Of a yearnings' life that only once
Thorned it's lovely ills.

Scarlet hushed the haunting Whispers
Made upon the Briar's Patch
While Cupid's proof kept itself softly
Far beneath the Willow's match.

Scarlet's quilted choker
Swinging in the breezy wind
Tell the blessed beauty's life
Of a dearly devoted friend.

Life once so treasured,
Now so very long ago
Leave the only trace upon The Garden's Lot
In the evenings' glow.