All the roads etched in your skin
take me home
to your arms and to your hands
that belong in mine.

Your voice as sweet as
summer cider and necessary as
morning coffee;
is the thing I wish for
to  hear first hand.

But there's no rush.

Good wine and good ideas
take their time
and I will travel home
by plane, and by train.
I will lose a day and gain
a love
that's hard to say
and harder to take away.

This is where it all starts.
Antarctic winds and Arctic rain,
a freak storm with no origin
with savage fingers tearing down
the woods,
she beckons and she calls my name.

The Earth shakes beneath my feet
and I am Homeless.
Bitter dust steals my sight
and I weep at my own
selfish tears.

Mother Nature sighs and groans,
her grip recedes
and the turmoil is untouched.
With hope as tough as the
passing storm;
survivors are found and families are built.
This is where it all starts.

Those legs
fragile and wobbly,
yet with feet on the Earth.
Young thing just take your time.
The mare is hereto teach you
to help you grow.
Let her nuzzle, let her
take you.

Oh young thing
your age is not a weakness,
almost
the opposite.
It is early days,
nothing
is set in stone.
Like dough,
be kneaded
         mature later.
Slow your steps.

Oh
Young thing.
My heart goes out to the memories.
Oh young thing,
If only you stayed young.

Give it time
to watch it grow,
to watch it fly.

Give him time
to watch him think
to watch him try.

Give her time
to watch her yearn
to watch her cry.

Give them time
to watch them love
to watch them love.

-JSC

Unwelcomed sunshine reaches
every darkened corner,
warmth brings a sigh
through the bones of bricks and
The weight of dew drops crushes
the blackened faces
Morning arrives
Hand in hand
with the promises of yesterday
and the disappointments of
tomorrow.
Hope braves the memory of
all that is lost.

They say distance
is just numbers,
that time goes by
in a flash.

They say money
can be found
and that space is just temporary.

But it's not.

And I'm sorry
but space is forever,
money is scarce,
time is draining
and the distance is growing.

I want to say we'll meet again
even just in my dreams

but I'm shackled by the ankles
and if I let my head dream
in the clouds
then my heart will bury
beneath dirt.

-JSC