Life is beautiful.
Butterflies were obviously crafted
By the hand of God
Meant to put a smile upon our faces.

Life is mysterious.
We don't quite understand
Why things happen when they do
So we're always left wondering.

Life is a gift.
I feel so lucky to have the people
In my life that I do now
And I am so thankful

Life is hard.
Sometimes I really want
To disappear, but it's not wise
To close a book in the middle of a sentence.

Life gets better.*
Though there is sometimes darkness,
There will always be light
You just wait for the sun during the night.

I want to write again
I want to feel
Like I did back then
When my day depended
On the words I had chosen
-- The life I put
In my poems

I want to write again
I want to feel
The thrill of the pen
The delight that rushes through my veins
When the right words blend
The pain I endure
Once my thoughts
No longer make sense

I am exhilarated
When I start
Scribbling on paper
My heart at peace
As soon as I polish it
On my typewriter

I write again
I write
Like nothing ever happened
Like not a thing prevented me
Months at an end

I write again

I write
Because it is who I am
Because in time,
I always return
To my essence
-- That in the end,
Nothing feels quite right
Unless I am writing.

I want to surround myself with photographs at my feet.
I want to explore and have adventures with my camera in hand.
I want to get up early in the morning to see the sun rise and see drops of dew on the grass.
I want to walk around at night and see the city lights shine.
I want to count the stars as I lie down on a field of grass and play Us Against the World.
I want to write in a leather notebook all my thoughts.
I want to have a bonfire and watch all my memories burn in the flames.
I want to curl up on the couch and read as the sun warms my skin.
I want to sleep at 2 am and wake up to the birds chirping outside my window.
I want to remind myself of why I fell in love with photography and writing.
I want to go back to makes me me.

You strum your guitar
Like the strings on my heart.
Pluck them effortlessly
To get a smile or two.
& on those summer days I couldn't help but feel
w
  e
  i
   g
    h
     t
      l
       e
        s
         s      
Like a wandering balloon
With nothing to hold on to.