mother sun warm and soothe us
mammoth children
your celestial brood
timelessly race around your skirts
we hope for a promise
imaginary worlds are real
our existence matters universally  
without our recognition
we are just creatures without eyes
castaways
living on fire’s raining rays
where dirt grows into grass
and not much matters
not our future
not our past

Look at my children
Adults I see
My younger face on theirs
In all, yes three
I taught them how to tie their shoes
To tell the time
And bandage knees
Years have gone
I did my best
Success they gain
Will be my test

My shoes have covered feet and miles.
Our soles are wearing thin.
When young and new we wore bright smiles,
and dealt with breaking in.
The scuffs and scars from life's abuse,
have weakened even thread.
How loosely we do dangle now,
no strides to get ahead.
With callous over blistered heel,
we plod our beaten path.
And make attempts to look well groomed,
with polish and a bath.
It may be time to start anew,
to stop the stares and whispers.
But what to do? I can't decide,
when life's a bedroom slipper.

As twilight's tranquil evening falls
And heavens come to view
The stars dot blackened sail above
And I spend time with you
Cast your gaze beneath my breast
To see where you exist
You did not know locked gateways there
Were passed with our first kiss
Come know this place where you reside
Stroked gently by lush crimson tide
You've strolled along it's sacred shore
And left me breathless... I who adore
Your touch, creating spellbound dunes
Your eyes, this world's two crescent moons
I retrace footprints that I find
To relive memories left behind
Each moment means so much to me
If past... Or what may one day be
On oyster beds which treasures grace
I long eternally your embrace

Daydream inspired
Project complete
Rewarding? Oh yes, and utterly sweet

Felled canvas, blushing colors my life’s stitch ceaselessly applied
What portrait stretches and looms it’s casement to my soul?
If all deeds behold with no aid of cloak, for sins sore shame to hide?
Needle pricked fingers recount thy yarn.
Shall I gaze upon a short winged angel, laced in gutters, where sensuality is defined?
How skillful the likeness of my windblown heart?
What shades of scarlet ooze that aching part?
Will I hesitate looking at past reckless deeds?
Woven with flare but so careless of needs.
Does smugness suspend me in self sapid stitches and ghost like thread for inches and inches?
How large the spool my decent breadth hold, done in shimmering shades, subtended in gold?
Dare I hope it be worthy to admire when shown?
Humble glory, my life, hung behind a King’s throne?

Move about with bended knees
Eight eyes, but can you see?
Casting line and tying knots
For lunch a meager flea
Daybreak bears your sovereign knack
Of pinning in a row
Dangling tiny diamonds
To adorn your bungalow
You ponder many buzzing bugs
Of iridescent jade
And wrapping them in blankets
Made of milkweed pod brocade
Sedated little damselfly
No, never getting loose
You're served this evening as first course
A  succulent chartreuse