I want your lisp.
To pull it out from between your lips, to spool it around my finger and wear it as a ring. To thread a string through it and wear it near my heart.
I want it for when you are far, to have you near;
And for when you are near, to have more of you here.

The lights of a new day flicker on
like the hope offered by a small candle in a winter storm
to small to do much more than cast a shadow on a wall and provide fleeting warmth; but, wise enough to know hope grows bigger with nothing but faith!

New dreams wash the insides of our eyelids like picture shows of old. childlike awe fills voids at the prospects of old tides turning with nothing but a marker.

A new day, a day in which the first seven, so much was accomplished and therefore possible. Even a silly little thing like the end of an old and beginning of a new year!

Off we go, in search of better -very often leaving it behind for the promise of adventure. Never did a new approach ever run smooth thus we are absorbed in the squabble of life's new experiences searching for peace and often ignoring it when we find it.

Happy adventures!
may you enjoy the life out of your challenges, both those that rise to meet you, and those you choose to engage in. May you find the fire that lightens and fills the heart with joy and inspire.

I was writing a song for the flowers
withering on top of the computer table
but like all things in nature,
the petals changed
into something grey and pure.
They die beautifully,
unlike us.
When we wither,
we do not fold into ourselves;
we do not look up to the sky,
but only avoid the light,
fold within our comforts
to hide and embrace the dark.
And so when love withers,
we let it die.
We are just human
after all.