Of all the people I've met in my life,
You are the best of all.
Whenever I feel ever so short,
You tell me that I am tall.
You laugh at every single joke,
Even if you know them all.
You're always standing by my side,
And you catch me when I fall.
We always sing,laugh and play,
All the way throughout the day.
At sunset we lay down under the sun,
Thinking about our day of fun.
I reach for your hand and you grab mine,
And I feel your love, oh lovely mother of mine.

Now as I lay under dusk's laudable light,
I reach slowly for your hand,
Hoping you'll grab mine.
But you can't because you're under heaven's dawn,
Oh lovely mother of mine.
You can't because you're gone,
Oh lovely mother of mine.

And I find myself,
Facing the stars,
Holding up my hands,
Begging the sun,
For one more chance.

And I find myself,
Reaching for your hand,
When you're on the ground,
Praying 'till the end,
For one more chance.

And I find myself,
Shattering the night,
Throwing out the light,
Crying as i fight,
For one more chance.

But if I can't have one more chance,
Then I wonder who? Who can?

The place not told where the mountains stand low and the ocean waves up high.              
Where soil grows up, from the plants so deep,
And the clouds float low with the grass up steep.                                                           ­                                               
The place not told where at dawn, the sun crawls down very slow,
And at dusk it creeps up from the depths below.                                                           ­                                             
The place not told where in the eerie night, I stand alone, yet in a frantic fight.                
With whom you ask, the most evil of things.                                                          ­      
In this place not told, I fight the darkness within.

Not a prison is one without a prisoner within,
Not a crime is one without one that commits,
Not a battle is one between death and life,
Without one that kills and the one that dies.
Not a tear you'll shed when a petal fades,
For if you believe, it will bloom again.
Not a heart is one without hate and love,
Not a god is one without the heavens above.
Not a hand you shall raise to the lurid skies,
If all of you're prayers are full of lies.
Not a word makes sense unless you understand,
So say what you believe, get up, take a stand.

Beauty was fake
Now it's death

There were some Mountains.
Storms raged.
Stone split.
Time wore on.
And there great heights,
were reduced to tiny Grains.
Millions of tiny Grains.
Heat and air.
And then Glass.
So much beauty.
From such beauty as before it.
And in reflection of the beauty it is gifted to.
You.

I  still  love  my  Catherine  dearly.
Her  beauty  unsurpassed.
Long  golden  hair  and  pale  blue  eyes.
I  still  think  of  her  like  that.

But  that  was  four  decades  ago.
The  time  has  just  elapsed.
But  time  stands  still  in  the  memory.
Just  like  a  photograph.

We  were  to  marry  one  March  day.
But  circumstances  took  me  away.
When  I  returned  from  foreign  climes.
Life  had  moved  on  with  the  times.

I  never  saw  her  ever  again.
Odd  letters  I  did  get.
She  was  swallowed  up  in  city  life.
And  I  often  have  regrets.

Has  she  grown  old  gracefully.
Or  in  youthful  beauty  died.
Many  times  I've  thought  of  her.
And  many  times  I've  cried.

But  in  my  mind's  eye  clearly.
Running  swiftly  down  the  hill.
A  vision  of  loveliness.
Within  my  memory  still.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK. 2016.