My bed is my sanctuary.
Your voice is my song.
A murmuring melody
That rolls in with the dawn.
Sexed up hair
And cloudy eyes
All taking in
The hazy sunrise.
Pink cheeks flushed with pleasure
Heated bodies
Beyond all measure.
Give me dew drop kisses
All along my spine
The passion of your lips
Is truly divine.
Love me on Monday
To the weekend
And back.
My eyes are hungry
Its you they lack.
Curl up your toes
Inside your socks.
Your whispers seem loud
During our pillow talks.

Even they did sow
A seed of love
They waited and deliberated
But the seed would not germinate
They wept
They prayed
They consulted and tested
But the shoot from the seed
In refusal, stayed within

It seared through her heart
To see other farms lush
Pain and pang both
While her being barren
Scared her
She withered!
A woman without a child
Can she not crumble?
sometimes self pity
Sometimes anger
An unspoken question
Forever would poke at her

Her feminity bore all
Concerns, questions, pain and ridicule
Still without loosing her will
She decided she would fight brave
Wage a war against luck!

Today she holds a babe
In her arms
Her smiles are young
Laden with warm promises
His eyes twinkle and dream at distance
Their wait is blessed
And so is the soul
Now with parents, protection
Love and care

A family framed
A new legacy waiting to be made!

Dear God,

All I ask is for one thing,
and I never ask for very much,
but,
you must know the fate,
of my one nephew.
His name is Braylan,
you must know him,
that little bundle of joy,
or my little Bug-a-boo,
that's his favorite nick-name,
that I gave him.
I even came up,
with a little song,
it's so simple,
you must have heard me sing it before.
I've added to it,
but I never got the chance to sing it to him,
it goes like this.

Bug-a-boo,
where are you?
My sleepy, little Bug-a-boo.
Rest your head
on your little bed,
my little baby,
Bug-a-boo.

I would very much like,
to sing it to him,
if I am ever given the opportunity,
before he,
dies.
Those spots on his body,
it's a neurological problem,
hard to believe I know.
And,
it's cancerous.
It can be treated i'm told,
if it's benign,
and never allowed to become malignant,
but it might be too late.
So please God,
please help my nephew,
my Bug-a-boo.
Please let him live,
or, if that isn't possible,
let him go peacefully,
and let his last moments be happy,
not tortured,
or filled with fear,
like when he is with his mother.
Please God,
this is all I ask of you,
and if you can save him,
thank you,
but if you can't,
give me the power to strive forward,
as a grow older,
and let me discover a cure,
let me solve the mystery,
let us all know,
so no child will ever go through this,
again.
One,
is one too many,
to befall this fate.
And I am sure,
there are more.
God,
if you're listening,
please help
my little Bug-a-boo.
Please,
help him now,
because I fear,
if you can't,
then it just might be,
too late.

A soldier,
crawling through the mud,
dodging bullets,
saving lives,
and taking many,
before he dies.

He is wounded,
and he lays there,
giving up the fight,
he knows he can't go on,
he knows he'll never make it back home,
so he waits for death to come.

Then he realizes,
with a sudden jolt,
he has everything to lose,
but he can face death head on,
and not back out,
the soldier rose from the ground.

He charged forwards,
bullets ripping through him,
but he won't stop moving,
till his battle is won,
and once he does that,
he can return home.

A soldier,
facing death everyday,
knows that he might not return home,
everyday is a risk,
but it's a risk worth taking,
when you're fighting for what you believe in.

Giving up
is no longer in my repertoire.

Today, I witnessed  a grown man run round and round and round in circles making silly noises, growling like a monster, speaking gibberish,wiggling his fingers and making very big faces, laughing like a madman while falling to the ground, only to get on all fours, snarling like a wild animal, going round and round and round, up and down...while his wife trotted joyfully back and forth, holding his bare-bottomed giggling grandchild.

Pure love, because we forget what it's like to be naked in public.