Bringing me back, those memories of old,
to a place of wonder and beauty;
Calling me, as if in a dream, of mythical qualities.

Yet it was indeed real, life at its fullest;
the pear tree in the side yard glistening
with yellow blooms of autumn;
And the sun's glowing rays beseeching us
to run outside and play.

Even in the rain, there was no more sacred ground;
nothing more precious than the touches and sounds
of family, friends, and Clancy--
the Irish dog adopted by our loving Italian family.

How I adored the smells of coffee and hot cocoa,
wafting through the air on Saturday;
Peppers and eggs, my father's favorite, and every cereal
one can imagine, filling the bowls with sweet milk
Arriving fresh and cold at our back door.

The clamoring of feet, singing out like heavenly choirs;
the hustle to ready ourselves for the football game,
sporting our colors of black and red,
Heartily singing our school song--

And bringing mom breakfast in bed,
a weekend treat that made her smile;
My brother's apple pancakes (don't ask !)
were carried on a tray with steaming coffee--
(it was the least we could do).

Summer...ah...opening the swimming pool,
our friends crowding 'round as it filled,
listening to the humming of the filter,
Getting ready for the next day's delight.

I could go on and on, the joy was immense,
and the years so treasured, though they moved along swiftly;
But in my mind's eye I can slow it all down,
like the beating of my heart, steady and sure--
Of how it was, and what it was, that came to be,
our family's home.

As gusts of air grow swiftly,
and the rain begins to fall;
There are lessons written on the wind,
to find love's everlasting call.

Heartache flies from wavering trees,
and settles down into the soil;
That builds the love of family,
with years of blood, sweat and toil.

Despite the racing clouds above,
as the lightning strikes our souls;
It's sheer wonder to find solace,
and grace that makes us whole.

And as the words fly desperately,
among this solemn scene;
They find a way to touch our hearts,
with a soft romantic gleam.

So if the storm is at your door,
don't run from its missives' mark;
To clean all the wounds of heartbreak,
and revive love's eternal spark.

A river of sorrow growls against the walls,
of alliances shattered in haste;
No more the combined resources,
no more the time to waste.

Pretending enemies are at the gate,
only serves to horribly ignite;
The words that display the devil's hate,
never knowing what's wrong or right.

Piecing lives together in waters' sanctity,
the sacred flow of our cherished dreams;
We need to touch one another's hearts,
devoid of reckless plots and schemes.

If the universe would grow from peace,
and not fill one another's space;
With horrid tales from mindless sources,
we can finally win this timeless race.

There in the corner lies a quilt,
of dazzling colors and ancient lore;
Through heritage we salute our flag,
from every mountain and every shore.

And this tribute symbolizes our faith,
in people who have lived before;
The honored works of pioneers,
have built castles that we adore.

Yet long before our ancestors came,
courageous folk with skin so dark;
Were huddled together on the plains,
protecting their land from shotgun's spark.

The fights between the White and Red,
spurred on the legacy of hateful minds;
Many years passed before our hearts,
reached out to the first Americans' sign.

And still it goes 'round and 'round,
with refugees suffering at our border;
No way to escape their turbulent lives,
they came to us for some law and order.

We shouldn't shut the doors on them,
compassion rules through our daily bread;
And so just as the Natives have claimed,
we still carry on with hearts of lead.

Rising through the sweat of ancestors' fears,
innate suffering leaves me bound;
Despite the black and white of day,
I wearily search for uncommon sounds.

Resting my head upon wisdom's watch
sensing calamity from hollow chants;
As voices within my heart rage on,
curiously whining in rebellious rants.

No longer expecting insanity's game,
(it had possessed me throughout the years;)
The mere notion of reaching back in time,
seals untold tales still rallying near.

And whether candles mark the night,
my faded hope for resurrection;
Bequeaths whatever sails far away,
to enhance the moment's rejection.

With blind ambition tumbling 'round,
in the stark wilderness of the seas;
I say good-bye with a solemn pledge,
while disappearing from the deep abyss.

Fanciful visions of crescent moons,
a heightened aura of crystalline light;
Miniature stars dangling like mobiles,
dancing and twinkling all through the night.

Blithe spirits gather to share their mirth,
floating across a royal velvet sky;
Whimsical turns on the carousel of time,
let loose a string of planetary fireflies.

Meteor showers spark a fiery scene,
while arousing angels' elation;
Of wildly stoked embers which scatter and burn,
Soaring by with lightning's exhilaration.

Vivid colors sharpen in umbrellas of stripes,
whirling gracefully through the cosmos;
This imagery paints a portrait sublime,
a miraculous window exposing the universe.

When eyes are wide open to heaven's adventures,
accepting spectacular visual arrays;
Thoughts mirror reflections of a complex world,
vitally enriching our souls every day.

As I sit and write this story,
I wonder if someone will see;
How much I want to live and learn,
and ultimately, be free.

It reminds me of the willow tree,
that weeps a symphony;
Caressing the ground as it lazily swings,
its flowing leaves in harmony.

Does the willow tree ever find some sleep,
or is it always awake to pray ?
For those of us lost in a frantic world,
for those who have so much to say...?

...But have no one to share their inner thoughts,
except with the willow tree;
Which sits so languidly on the hill,
a grand vision for all to see.

The rain keeps it fresh, damp and cool,
when each heart hears a sad goodbye;
And it lays its branches upon your soul,
with deep comfort within its sigh.

I love the sound the willow makes,
as the breeze floats through its leaves;
With fading memories of days long past,
no more chance for me to grieve.

Willows weep and give us hope,
even though their branches cry;
For Nature is a gift to show the way,
and sing us all a sweet lullaby.