Her dreams are washing away with the tides of the sea
The words inscribed in her heart are drifting
Away in a glass bottle, safe but solitary

Her gaze is steady and the mellowness of
The sun’s sweet warmth is soothing the pain in her

One lone figure upon the sands
Abandoned by the presence of her destiny

Their time gone now like a drop of rain
On top of the world for a moment but shattering
When it collides with reality

I walk in the silence of my thoughts.
The rushing winds beckon but my ears refuse to listen.
Tree tops bend to whisper wise words;
I continue on because my mind has its own .

In the silence of my soul I trod,
Gazing only to the light of the sun ahead.
The leaves prance; they want me to dance,
But I will only walk today
In the silence of my thoughts .

Like wet paint my thoughts drip
And collect in a puddle at my toes.
I dip my brush and begin to stroke
My secrets onto earth’s blank canvas.
Back and forth they glide softly
Until an image begins to form,
And strangers see and they ponder.
Then they understand who I am;
It becomes clear to them.
Everyone sings and dances beneath
My soul in its painted nature.

I am a bird with wings
But I have not yet learned to fly.
When I do,
The threads of my dreams
Will soar into the infinity,
And my claws will hold back
Any who try to stop them

I left my umbrella in Ireland
In a pub near down by the sea.
It kept me dry of the drops
That seemed to chase after me.

I left my umbrella in Ireland
With the old lads drinking their beers.
No need of a big blue umbrella
To keep dry their big merry tears.

I left my umbrella in Ireland,
And I believe my happy heart too.
For it was the land of smiling eyes
And skies that sometimes stayed blue.

They are a herd of wild horses
Trampling across my forehead in a dance
Surrendering themselves to the unknown
In blazes with the touch of a sun ray
Recoiling into quiet
And bursting into frenzy
Tangled like my cluttered mind
Falling out in a discouraged rhtyhm
Tied into a contained presence
But always escaping in the fluttering winds

A pained heart painted with colors of desire;
the depths of being, darkened without fire.
Gusts of rage fill holes in deep wounds;
lone thorn roses upon the soul blooms.

To be is to suffer the woes of despair
but not is to wither away in death’s lair.
Life’s hurt forever will have its presence;
a heavy weight on the unsteady conscience.

So hold on to the fragments of hopeful thoughts;
live in the moments when not all is lost.
Fight to float in the eye of the storm;
keep the heart beating, safe and warm.