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The worst things always happen
When things are looking up.

Yet shall I praise Jesus!
He is not at fault.

I'm going to praise God in the
Midst of trials.

Some trials are of water.
Some of fire. All end.

In a reverie of joyous thoughts
I take myself to other worlds
Where tinkling streams of crystal flow
And summer breezes gently blow

Where beds of darkness love to  bloom
Beneath the cusp of a crescent moon
And stars that shine their light bright
Silver the paling ends of night

And when at dawn, the sun rises
To write poetry with rays of quill
The hills come alive with the scented  ink
Of  sunflowers and daffodils

Here clouds at dusk touch the earth
And drizzle rain on yearning trees
Nature's rhapsodic songs
Sing in unchained melodies

In this world of happy thoughts
Such sweet and joyous visions see
I linger there, longer to dream
In the solitude of a reverie

It's a dream childhood
taking the ten fifteen autumn ferry
for school on the other side of the river
little white butterflies
petite pretty ribboned
babbling like river ripples
boarding from the jetty in the sky
traveling below billowing September clouds
living only in now breathing joyous
no worry for a future
ferrying along the river
and now is all that counts
counting by the moments
fairy furlongs
on the ten fifteen autumn ferry.

so ****** doomed, destiny defeated
we need what we please, not what is needed
searched for something new and never succeeded
we even said please and begged and pleaded

there can't be no doomsday deleted
we cheat each other, it's we who are cheated
more reckless reasoning is repeated
can't stop the cycle, nearly completed

As I strolled through the park
A very small boy was having a lark

A very small boy on a very small bike
Flying past nearly in the ****

As I came back from the store
He was going faster more and more

He flew past me like a bat out of hell
I jumped off the path and nearly fell

As he disappeared from sight
I wondered would he be all right

I didn't see her for three days

then she was back
but her color was not

where her hair parted
was starkly arid
on her forehead
wasn't the dot of red
and her saree was bleached white

yet nothing was amiss
she intently scaled the fishes
cut them neatly into pieces
though a piece of her went missing

She knows well
for no price
can she stop the sale.