Love is a gentle caring
    a quiet concern
deeply hidden in the heart.
  A presence always felt
everyday, every minute, every hour.
   Love is a great passion
between hungry hearts.
   Love is a gentle embrace
between body & soul.
   Love is always caring
always growing
   always being there.
Love is a wonderful gift
   shared by two blessed souls
experiencing Heaven on Earth

Friendship is a priceless gift,
It cannot be bought or sold;
But its value is far greater,
Than a mountain made of gold.

For gold is cold & lifeless,
It can neither see nor hear;
And in the time of trouble,
It is powerless to cheer.

It has no ears to listen,
Nor heart to understand.

So when you ask God for a gift,
Be thankful if He sends...
Not diamonds, pearls or riches,
But the Love of Real True Friends.

Friendship is a golden chain,
The links are friends so dear,
And like a rare & precious jewel
It's treasured more each year.....

Time can't destroy it's beauty
For,as long as memory lives,
Years can't erase the pleasure
That the joy of friendship gives....

And the golden chain of friendship
Is a strong & blessed tie
Binding kindred hearts together
As the years go passing by.

In my entourage
people laugh
I got used to it.

In my center stage
I was the comedian
who never likes
his job.

In my closing remarks
their entertainment
was fulfilled.
I on the other hand
got drained
from my mistakes
turned to be pretty
funny,
never was that
my intention.

flowing words that ripples through,
painted pain in the waters
waiting to be
understood.

Don’t come to the cemetery at night Peter Xalxo would say
If you are so inclined make your visits in the day
For often in the evening when exam worries were gone
I would go to the cemetery and sit on some tombstone.

I think boy the ones from the other world make visits at nights
And they would not love to find living souls upon their sights
Why intrude their peaceful home and not leave them there alone
When the time after the sunset they think to exclusively own!

Having said this with a grave face he would lower his voice still low
While on nightly posts at the graves I’ve seen in the dark some glow
And at moonlit nights on duty’s round heard footsteps around me
I would advise boy not to step into at night at the cemetery.

He used to tell more such tales to instill in the boy some fear
But come the next evening and at the cemetery I would reappear
For I loved the moon bathed solitude the trees’ darkened shed
The tranquility of the place in quiet company of the dead!

All said I wouldn’t leave out in this account one truthful fact
Uncle Peter’s stories had some effect some impact
They colored my times at the cemetery spent at nights alone
I seemed to feel they were moving the graves’ marble stone.

Then one night as I was coming out around nine o’clock
To my horror found the gate closed with an iron lock
Bewildered I stood there knowing no other ways to go
When there appeared a shadow heard the voice of Peter Xalxo.

I told you boy not to loiter here not disturb their peace of night
This ground here the dead walks now though beyond your sight
Run home and never come back his voice in whisper talked
Some more words he mumbled before got the gate unlocked.

That night at the dinner table my father told mom this
He was such a good man and a great friend to miss
But God only decides in his garden which flower to pluck
Peter Xalxo died this evening suffered a heart attack.

Our humanity has nothing
To do with your ego...*


@pax