I see the joy
sparkling in his eyes

Like a kid
in a mans body

Wise
yet still playful

Grounded
Meticulous

His presence
is comforting
powerful

I see the age in his face
like the surface of the earth
worn
but not exhausted

Wearing specs with thick lenses,
Having a hearing aid,
And walking with a cane,
I can see through people as clear as crystal.
22/11/2024.

Part of a person is what is inside,
Build in your children character and discipline,
So that wherever they go they leave their mark.
22/11/2024

The back of a
turtle is a
dream catcher.

The biggest I’ve
ever seen.

There are no
holes in it.

So the dreams
cannot get out.

Cobweb carving
on his back.

The turtle walks
in its sleep.

His head and
legs like cactus.

He spins
through the sand.

He feels like
a skipped rock.

The wind
will not mock.

You should never
write at night.

The tunnel then
is often too tight.

You’ll experience
an awful fright.

You might have to
give up your sight.

It’s easier to be
positive in the light.

You taunt with
all your might.


No ones allowed to cut
up anyone out of spite

Your sighs fly
lower than a kite.

So no matter what time
you were right to write.

A rose in
a dandelion of water.

A fairy sleeping in
the handle of a tea cup.

Her straw hat casting
rain drop shadows.

She tosses and turns
like she’s in a hammock.

She frowns with her
aurora borealis hair.

Her dress of tv static
blows in the wind.

The tablecloth of armor
claps as you sit down.

Inspirational quotes written
in blue on the tea cup.

She has never read them.

You can’t read them either.