With pen we show our hearts
True feelings to our cores
Through this very medium we share it across the shores
For me it was my once wife
That led me to this strife

In healing I put pen to paper
That'll  be the reason we write
For they wrote on our hearts
Be they not the poets?
The poets of our hearts!
©️

I will ask you a question

“Do you remember the child you once were?

Who colored the crayons beyond the lines, shaping everything in that child’s imagination.

That painted the rivers green and the trees blue, full of wonder, putting nothing in order.

Now, I ask you this… What happened to that child?”

Why is that child now organizing the shapes, his head now a machine on rotate

He solves the puzzles but not his dreams
He gives the leaves a touch green, and rivers with blue...

What happened to the child who once ruled the world?

Now the World ruled the child."

[by Edna St. Vincent Millay]*
Listen, children:
Your father is dead.
From his old coats
I'll make you little jackets;
I'll make you little trousers
From his old pants.
There'll be in his pockets
Things he used to put there,
Keys and pennies
Covered with tobacco;
Dan shall have the pennies
To save in his bank;
Anne shall have the keys
To make a pretty noise with.
Life must go on,
And the dead be forgotten;
Life must go on,
Though good men die;
Anne, eat your breakfast;
Dan, take your medicine;
Life must go on;
I forget just why.