There you are – all of you
Standing at attention
Ready for an inspection.
Are your jackets clean, dust free?
Yes.
But I see a speck here and a little there.
Wait.

Does History precede Fiction (or Is History made of Fiction)?
Does Poetry weigh the same as Narrative?
Biography and Comics?

Philosophy beckons with a cynical smile – To be or…
Languages jostle for priority
Religion advises “Let It Be”

All these are mere ripples.
For Emily and Elizabeth stand silent
Within they are the stormy sisters.
Richard and Bill nod in agreement.
Howard and Sylvia know it’s definitely zoo time
Not a Lazarus back from the grave.

Tony and Eric are composed
For they celebrate uncommon people.
Sophie, not to be left out, asserts it’s her world.

But Anne, dear Anne, cries
“Let me out, where there’s fresh air and laughter.”

Time, that little winged bird, flies with me by its side
In hand with my treasures,my sumptuous feast of words.

One of the most beautiful thing
I have ever seen
Is in your eyes

I am a receiver
A born unbeliever
Truth seeker
Story speaker
Pain reliever
The giver
The writer
The new right
To lifer
Poet of the people
And dreamer

I may not have the wealth,
The fame,  or the power

I may not have the gold,
The bronze, or silver

I may not have the beauty-
Of the  body, or of the face

I may not be the best-
Woman,  citizen or race

I may not see what they can
Or make loud noise like their laugh

I may not have this world
But having your love  is enough.

somersaulting through the night
landing face first
into a bed smelling of love
finding you there
filled with acrobatic amusement
   and i am airborne
   once again.