Angels and cancer
Two TOTALLY dIfFeReNt things
My world
C
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when you died
My lungs stopped breathing and my heart beating
I miss just sitting watching Wheel Of Fortune or Jeopardy
with you stroking my hair
I miss going to the bakeries
and pretty much E V E R Y W H E R E
I still have your bracelets
and wore them on my birthday
They make me feel closetoyou
and not so far a w a y
When I see angels, chickens, bakeries, or antique shops
I feel comfort and see you
I really hope you know that even though we're apart,
I still really love you
This letter is for my Grandma Liz
and I hope she knows how much we miss her
I still have her angels but
her love will always be more than a
w
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Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 4:14 PM UTC
Happiness is the sun shining brightly
on a cold spring day.
It's an Olaf that sings
while skipping away.
It's a child's squeal of delight
when being tickled by their mother.
Happiness is accomplishing a hard task
and receiving a reward like no other.
It's the laughter of close friends
with one person who made a joke.
Happiness is getting a question right
even though no one spoke.
Happiness exists everywhere
especially when most needed.
Many people don't think it
but happiness can be repeated.
I wish everyone could be happy
especially when they're most down.
Less muscles are used to smile
than to make a frown.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC
Surrounded with malevolent thorns,
She is always waiting.
Waiting for the rain to pour,
for the sun to start shining.
The colors she comes in differ, but hers is red.
Red as a traitor's blood that the only thing
that was important was that they bled.
They bled for a war that couldn't be won for the time being.
She may appear sweet and pretty
but she has endured tough things.
She's learned lessons that have made her witty.
Even in struggles that fill her with abhorrence of it, she sings.
Her song is happy but bittersweet
with scars for every pain.
She really is a pleasure to meet
and is quite a friend to gain.
Some people don't get too close
because of all her thorns and appearance.
But some people get close
and see that the thorns are transparent
that reveal the beauty inside her.
She is a Rose.
This is the middle name I bear.
Rose was the name my parents chose.
She is me, my mom, and my great grandmother.
A Rose is what I am proud to be.
This name will never be a bother
as it is an everlasting part of me.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 4:38 PM UTC
It crashes on my face
Cool and wet like oceans waves
The drops hug my skin
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC
They float in the sky
White like the snow on Christmas
An airplane zooms by
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 12:05 PM UTC