A thistle in a meadow is bold and beautiful, not because it's different, but because it was given a chance to grow...


©

And so the girl child sat
knitting melodies beside
the great river of words.
Soon her songs were heard,
beyond the Lake of Lyrics
and the vast Sea of Verse.

The evening tide carried them
across oceans to foreign shores.
Field workers sang her songs
to children in their hovels.
They escaped the lips of scholars
in the great halls of learning.

The child became a woman,
and still she weaved the magic,
from the words of the river,
for the hearts of all who read them.
As she weaved she told the secret
to a child who knitted beside her.

Emerging from the womb of time
I heard her whisper to my heart.
I felt the great river in my being,
and I began to knit a melody.
I heard my soul sing with joy,
I am the child of an ancient poet.

© 30/12/2009

On this day I've nothing to give thee, save one but my heart I offer it freely.

Trapped in the cold of winter's asylum, your love warms my heart as to springeth to blossom.  

Your kisses like snowflakes fall gently on my skin, melting in a pool for our emotions to swim.

You've the midday sun forever upon thee, casting a light that lovingly guides me.

The key to my heart is wrapped in your love, soaring above in the form of a dove.

So forever together we walk hand in hand, even unto death to the promised land.