Autumn is beautiful
Spring is grand
Winter is harsh
And summer is Hell.

She was in a hurry,
A coffee to go
She began to worry
She was moving too slow

The coffee came
She paid quickly
He saw the dame
And acted swiftly

He ran to the door
A moment too soon
That young man, poor
Now he’s a goon

“Sorry Miss”
He said Sincere
I must confess
My mind is not clear

You are a beauty;
More than a dove
I am so clumsy,
I know I found love.

Trees are flying by, inches from my head.  
I am growing so weary I wish I were in bed.  
My legs are working vigorously,
My mind wonders endlessly.  

Shadows in these woods taunt and torment.  
Wanting to speak thoughts now, having lain dormant.  
I cannot help but wonder.  Why I am having this nightmare.  
Seeing the memories, slip away puts me in a state of deep despair.  

The darkness is gaining momentum as my soles beat the ground.  
I do not understand why I cannot simply turn around.  
My heart beats through the cavity of my chest.  
What I desire most is to reach the crest.  

I inhale the cold gust of wind with my every breath.  
My threshold tells me I am close to death.  
As I look in the distance at my soul and body,
I send God a sorrow-filled apology

The sun arose.
Dew-sprinkled grass glistened.
Gentle mist fell
And the rainbow stretched to touch the sky.

The birds sang good morning
The tulips yawned
Rabbits peeked their little eyes out of their hole
And the moon waved farewell

Spring has come once again.
The dawn breaks, caressing the Earth.
The aged wonderer marks his course,
Setting out for another journey.
Walking for many days and scores of miles,
The wonderer finds a shady tree calling his name.

Sliding his haversack off his shoulder
He rests his tired back against the tree.
As his eyes begin to close,
His mind begins to roam a world of dreams
Concealed to him before now.

Many days of peaceful slumber pass.
The wonderer at last awakens
Ameliorated for the first time,
Since he was merely a young lad.
Despite his urge to stay,
He knows he must depart,
For the uncharted road awaits him.

Just before leaving,
The wanderer bows to the tree
Thanking it for everything it has given him,
Hoping, maybe someday his journeys
Will lead him back to the Celestial tree.

Some will toss and turn,
others will cry.  
Me, I will yearn,
I will yearn to die.  
When the day comes, my wings will spread.  
Call no man happy till he is dead.  

Having lived my life for him alone,
I do not see why I should fret.  
Even in the face of fire and brimstone,
My Savior will not forget.
When the day comes, my wings will spread.
Call no man happy till he is dead.

I lay in my bed silently,
trying to catch the lucid dreams,
dangling above my head.
Not even the softness of my pillow could
comfort my restless thoughts.

My realizations leave me struck down.
I lay for scores of minutes.
Unable to answer my own inquiry,
I arise from my bed.

As I stumble silently down the stairs,
I listen for my mother in the living room.
She turns as she senses me enter.
Her tired eyes send a quiver down my spine.
Just as she is about to speak I ask,
“Why are so many people mean, momma?”

With a peaceful look in her eyes,
She responds, “They are missing a very important part of their life.
They are missing love, dear.”

She kisses my head and
Hugs me tight.
Showing her affection as she says,
“Goodnight my daughter, sleep peacefully.”