Days run so fast.
Just yesterday,l was 10
And today ,l'm 15
And tomorrow, l will be 20
And maybe 40.
Hope l make it to 100
And tell stories to my grand
kids
About the walls l had to break
to survive
Some to make them smile
Others will be sad ones
And maybe they will cry
But in the end,each struggle
will be worth it.

At first light, I turn my head
towards an open window
and listen to the dove’s lament.
I know his pain. I know his cry.

He weeps in such a way
that makes me wish
I could answer,
but only God or another dove
can heed that call.

I turn my head away from the window,
pull warm covers back over my ears
and wait for him to fly away.

You learn more by travelling than reading books. So keep travelling!

To be hell ridden
of the itch of worry

are words I wish
I wrote

but alas
they are what I've found

more vestiges
of you

for much of what
I own

poetically is
yours

and the best
I can do

Birds cry and sing in the still-dark,
commit to living one more winter’s day.
In sleeping rooms their heartache finds me
building nests for injured things.
  
I will lock the door when I leave-
and carry their heartache with my own.
I will pilfer light from a low-rolling Sun and
siphon-off peace from the sea.

(I will love, I will love, I will love)