He caught my hand as I began to fall,
the smoky night had deceived me;
In shades of gray the horror struck,
I thought no one would believe me.

The words were stuck inside my throat,
yet somehow I emitted a whimper;
His strong arms drew me close to him,
it couldn't have been any simpler.

But frightened as I seemed to be,
his eyes were a light in the dark;
Like clear and glistening raindrops,
they calmed my ravaged heart.

Memories of how I'd lost my way,
then found in swells of empathy;
He helped me see the truth of life,
I'll be thankful 'till my dying day.

The sunlight awakens us as dawn arrives,
in gentle silence glowing;
We yawn and smile our sleepy smiles,
with joy and wonder showing.

Another day to pass the time,
in lazy summer's shade;
To sit and lounge on the front porch,
with crisp iced tea and lemonade.

The blooming florals permeate the air,
with sweet and scented perfume;
We clip rosebuds for the dining table,
oh, how their beauty lights up the room !

Serene and lovely is our summer's day,
as we share in quiet thoughts;
While memories fill our peaceful hearts,
of our years together--never forgotten.

Craving essences of inner thoughts
toward picturesque portraits,
to be created by soulful words--
The Artist lets emotions run rampant
through mystical sounds and touches'
delights--
A heartfelt design from a whirling frenzy
of mindful notions,
framed into a mosaic which carries this message:
"As long as life perseveres,
there will be fables following us
leading us out of the darkness."

My life is a culmination of
a series of miraculous events;
Touched by an angel at birth,
and carried through days of delight;
Where the smell of moist lilacs hangs
in the misty air like clouds of the past,
and wonders of the future;
And the sun beats readily upon the
crystal glass from which I peer,
My roaming eyes examining the magic of
everyday moments, allowing my soul to thrive;
Connecting all that's good in the world,
to rise and comfort me in everlasting glow;
As always, with deep gratitude and amazement.

The lawn is covered in early spring's delight,
by little floral buds of golden hue;
As children we thought they were magical,
not the yellow weeds which can conquer the view.

We'd pick them slowly till our fingers were sore,
and put them together in tiny bunches;
Then bring them to Mom as a heartfelt gift,
and Oh, how she'd fuss while serving us lunch !

They'd sit in the midst of our kitchen table,
as we watched adoringly when eating sweets,
Mother's face would shine like a new penny,
while she doled out our 'after luncheon' treats.

Back into the yard we'd soon run and play,
discovering a small patch of purple violets;
And gathering them gently into our hands,
we'd run to Mom as she came down the steps.

One doesn't need money to please those we love,
a simple gesture of kindness is always the best;
For what is truly beautiful in our short lives,
is what we hold dear in our memory's "treasure chest" !

Growing in the side-yard of our house in Villa Park,
were mint leaves basking in the summer sun--
Sitting in the kitchen with windows opened wide,
the ruffled curtains fluttering in the warm breeze--
I could taste the scented air as I drank my lemonade,
poured from my grandmother Mary's heavy glass pitcher,
artfully embossed with floral etchings.


A porcelain cookie jar shaped like a happy homemaker,
sat quaintly in the corner of our green kitchen counter--
The cotton tablecloth swirled with bright colored birds,
partially shaded by the lowering of the evening sun.
Kneeling at the window I saw a bounty of honeysuckles,
which enhanced the sweetness of summer's breath.


Mom would dish out bowls of butter-almond ice cream,
a delicious treat brought earlier by her cousin Jean--
And often we'd play Scrabble long into the night,
(Mom was the brightest of us all, a winner in every way);
then we'd head outside toward the backyard pool
To watch lightning bugs flitting in delight around
our giant maple tree, catching a few as they floated past us.


Later, from my room, I'd hear the humming of the pool's filter,
and Daddy's reassuring voice practically in rhythm with the sound--
My younger siblings would grab hold of me as we chased our
playful pup down the stairs and onto the front porch--
There, we sat in the twilight watching Dad survey the moon,
with Mom commenting on the twinkling stars above--
And we knew, wholeheartedly, that love surrounded us,
before bedtime arrived and engulfed us in peaceful sleep.

Mounted high upon his mahogany desk,
those papers lined with embellished words;
Disguised with false echoes of majesty,
which tell the tales of fire and swords.

Forgetting all but one parable designed,
to open up a bleeding heart's wounds;
His inspired thoughts would float away,
in dubious flights of sights and sounds.

While caressing the pages so boldly grasped,
reminding him that words could hold the key;
To rescue the world and solve its weariness,
if only his heart would embrace validity.

Now struggling through these manuscripts,
with haunting visions of malice and grief;
His life torn apart from the wanton spirits,
while flowing cautiously toward a sense of relief.

Since living is heaven's gift to us all,
not just a plaything to scorn and toss;
We must carry the torch to higher ground,
despite our sacrifice and inevitable loss.