Be patient, wait, listen, be still, be kind, think of others more than your own self, give a smile to everyone, drink your coffee and thank the barista, tip the waitress, donate $10 to the Red Cross, buy a rose for your wife, read a poem of Keats, listen to a piece of Mozart and be grateful you are blessed

Pale leaves fall silently in the dead of winter
I realise I have lived far too long
I was once a bold and outgoing singer
but no longer has life left me any single song-

in the night's thickest snow I wander
the heartless winds they blow loud and strong
tears of forlorn love on icy rocks they flounder
in this chilling hour I weep,  to none do I belong

there are songs
in the anger
of the waves
upon the rocks
and the tearing
of the wind
through the long grass
in the plotting
of the clouds
gathering low
in the sky
and
in the droplets
whispering
upon the page

nebulous galaxies
                          spiraling forth
stars collecting
                          in clusters              lost
configuring
               constellations           in
                                  
                             ­         space
and
                time-
                                  travelling
   through
                        light-years
duly                        ­                     revolving,
              aligning
     with                       the Sun  
                    and                           the Moon
suspended
                      in the interstellar

Green color enveloped the nature.
Air covered itself in mist.
Sky played hide and seek with clouds.
Mesmerised people looked on all three elements of nature in awe.

The flames of change
consumed my past

Left no time to think
about what was last

No time to plant a life
Not while the clouds so raced

I said hello and goodbye
to all I faced

Like the tumble **** strong

Blown across Texas plains
I tumbled for oh so long

Remaining untamed

Now there is sand underneath
Not a reason to plant my feet

I never planted roots of relief
And now there are none to seek

Sleep descends on gentle air
combing evening's purple hair
Angels glide down heaven's stair
to gather up our daily care

First,
I strive for beauty
I wait for the bell to chime
the lightning to strike

Today, it seems,
the skies are clear
those chimes of midnight
are silenced
they boycott my breath
heap ash on the urgency of ringing
and leave me dizzy
in my decline.

But if the past
truly is prologue
it will all come round again.

Language will make its magic.
Sweetness will ooze from
the open wound
of my heart.

There will be words
in the order and rhythm
in which they were intended.

And poetry will breathe yet again.