Freckles on your face,
Sunshine in your smile,
Promises made on your pinkie,
Memories in your mind,
Steps taken with your soles,
Hands are being held,
Adoration gleaming in your eyes.

In a café
Rich aroma of
Coffee brew
Morning welcome
Happy faces
Flitting newspaper pages
Reads the world story
Over aromatic coffee
Discuss local happenings
Perfect blend of
World with the neighborhood
Over cups of coffee
Animated discussions
Some ideas may
Change the world
Microcosm will fit
Perfectly in the macrocosm
Small world
Can make a difference

Golden flecks of man-made stars

Shimmering against the concrete

Auriferous bulbs left to flash

Off and on in Morse code

Beacons to guide us safely home

Juxtapose them to the heavenly body

Illuminate the shadows

Make our land shine new

Heartbeats in rhythm of the moving cars

The passion of the sun and grace of the moon erupt in shinning brilliance

Strong emotions huddle into a space called heart
build up so dense are soon ripped apart
the heat drives them to expand too fast
but time dictates slow down they must.

the strong energy the explosion unleash
go on to create stars galaxies
that retreat from one another but oh what a fate
the final fallout is an unsteady state!

Put your chin up.
Don't let anyone see you down.
Don't you ******* dare
Sit around and wallow in self-pity.
That just proves my assumptions
That you're a little *******.
Head up, look the problen straight in their
******* eye,
And fix it.
Don't go sitting around moping,
"Oh woe is me!"
*******,
Stand the **** up,
And see how the people around you care,
And how you say your leaving as to not hurt them,
You leaving hurts them ten fold.
See how we care.
Open your ******* eyes.

Who is now reading this?

May-be one is now reading this who knows some wrong-doing of my past life,
Or may-be a stranger is reading this who has secretly loved me,
Or may-be one who meets all my grand assumptions and egotisms with derision,
Or may-be one who is puzzled at me.

As if I were not puzzled at myself!
Or as if I never deride myself! (O conscience-struck! O self-convicted!)
Or as if I do not secretly love strangers! (O tenderly, a long time, and never avow it;)
Or as if I did not see, perfectly well, interior in myself, the stuff of wrong-doing,
Or as if it could cease transpiring from me until it must cease.

flock to the jhil in December
the birds from the snow

merry goers catch them on lens.

some travel that far distance

like peafowls and hens

tasty with salad cucumber

end up on plates

adorned with spice.

some have a fate that's more nice

brought to the market
sold at high price

so they live grow up in age
with the sky ever beyond cage.

a few of us not knowing why

fall in love with jhil bird's eye.