He floats in the air,
Swaying, prancing,
Twirled by the breeze,
Moving, dancing.
A dance in the air,
On hidden wings,
In love with the music,
Of the wind.
Graceful moves,
A performance brief,
Gently swirling,
The falling leaf.
For a moment on the ground,
He rests and stays,
Then another breath of wind
And swept away!
Flitting, floating,
Up and down,
Slowly in a ring,
Around and around.
Choreographed by the breeze,
In delight once more,
The breeze and the leaf . . .
The dance, encore!

She sells flowers in little bunches,
Sweet fragrances that please,
Delicate sepals of life,
That softly speak.

Bouquets of living colours,
Petals of inspiration,
Roses, chrysanthemums,
Daisies, carnations.
Accent blossoms, gerberas,
Lilies smiling in myriad hues,
Sunflowers a darling yellow,
Vibrant orchids in splendour blue.

With her touch, beauty breathes,
Glorious blossoms thrive,
Delicately arranged,
Floral expressions come alive.

For new love that slowly blooms,
For confessions yet to be said,
The finest of her finest,
She ribbons roses dark rich red.

Fond good health thoughts,
Through florals expressed,
She’ll wrap with gentle care,
With love’s tenderness impress.

She’ll weave wreathes and garlands,
Blends of wistful white, blues, pinks,
For memories left behind,
Now distant imprints.

In sweet scents, she colours days, months, years,
Walks alone each night when she is done,
Back home, no florid fragrance fills her senses,
To colour her world there is no one.

Grateful for the blue skies
For the warmth of a day 
For soft drops of rain

For lilac buds and trees 
Dancing leaves 
For ocean waves on sandy grains. 

Grateful for what is seen 
Touched, felt 
In whispers heard

The moment that soaks in 
The little joys of life 
Midst the spinning of the world.

Grateful for wine and water
Fruit of orchards
Seasons that shed

For hands that help 
Eyes that speak 
With words unsaid.

Grateful for those who love 
For the wind behind
Feathered wings

For angels that twinkle 
Through the stars 
And the light they bring.

Grateful for kindness 
Tenderness 
Hugs in gentle embrace

Grateful for smiles 
That come my way 
That my fingers love to trace.

Grateful for rays of hope 
That fill a cup 
Then glimmer on the rip

Grateful for you 
And the quiet presences 
For the gift of life and Him.

I love the word melange
It sounds not-so-ordinary  
Though not so extraordinary
But I feel a notch above the rest when I use it
So much so for being pretentious

And without being rambunctious
I’ll say that I find —
It describes, perfectly, the state of my mind —
Some happy thoughts, some with twists
Some clear ones, some fogged with mist
Some good, others amiss
A curious melange of thoughts
Of that and this
And that, I suppose, is also what life is.

Once I caught a teardrop, I put it to good use,
I sealed it in a bottle and sent it to my Muse,
She wrote a little song, heart broken and forlorn,
And from one tiny tear, my first verse was born.

Once I caught a frown, I put it to good use,
I crumpled it like paper and sent it to my muse.
She smoothened all the furrows, gave it back to me,
And from my petty anger, she gently set me free.

Once I caught a smile, I put it to good use,
I gave it little wings and sent it to my muse . .
With a twinkle in her eyes, I could hear her say,
With laughter in your heart, may you find your way.


Once I caught a thought, I put it to good use,
On my white winged horse, I flew right up to my Muse,
With a knowing smile, she held my eager hand,
She gave me a prayer, wisdom to understand.

And when, in gratitude, I thanked my feathered Muse,
She gave me a quill and said, ‘Put it to good use’.

Your drafts are always better than your poems