Why is Death always scowling?
Does he hate the life he takes,
or the death he gives?

Love turns tragic in Persia,
in Venice,
in China,
in graveyards,
in movies,
in poems.

Love gets deadly
in candles tall as men.

Only after we fail
to bring it back
from where it's gone,
do we ever think
to join it
where it's at.

I create clutter
In my head and around me
When I'm stressed
Because I have no energy
To clean it up

As the clutter increases,
My frustration increases with it
Until I can no longer function
Till I clean it up

How long before I finally
learn the lesson
To take care of myself?

Awed by her splendor
stars near the lovely
moon cover their own
bright faces
when she
is roundest and lights
earth with her silver

Bow down your head and pray my love
For  all that's gone before
Rejoice and know that you are held
in love forevermore

The lark will ring her joyful tones
the bells will flower blue
while all the while my heart will mourn
this aching lack of you

Then when the final bell does toll
and all our hope is gone
I'll walk in darkness til we meet,
My ever loving one.

The Sun  kisses

all faces.

Wind has such range:
It is gentle enough
To make a hot day better
Or
Strong enough
To wreck havoc

I think people are the same
Each capable of both extremes