Sometimes my mom speaks
to God in the afternoon, and
I hear her through the walls
her whispers, but mostly her
why nots and what ifs, how sos

I looked across the street,
     And saw an old man smoking a cigar,
          He looked sagacious though feeble,
    That old man with many a scars.
  He had grey eyes
That were miles deep,
 Eyes that whispered
      A thousand words to me...

The lotus dances on the lake at night
under the bright moon
and the water lily  ballets upon the river
the fairies dance in the shadows of the moon
the flowers waltz in the meadow
and the moon casts its rays upon the ground
making the ground look like silvery
shadows of light hitting the
waltzing flowers
the sounds of crickets and that of katydids
and nighttime birds fill the
air
and the sweet fragrance of
lavender, lilacs, honeysuckles,
and roses fill the air
and the lotus continues
to dance on the lake
to the song of nighttime birds and insects
and the water lily continues
to ballet upon the river
to the song of the flowing river
that she ballets upon

only at night

**~Hilda~

Before I grew up so fast
I once believed I was a good kid, back when I had never seen the world
Where life was just like the stages of the day and moments passed and carried on
But that day I always remember when a new emotion, where I was hurled
To a new territory, to a never before seen place
Where kids began to find it funny on what others looked like
How it mattered to have a flawless face
No blemishes
No scars
No indications of any irregularity could be found
For if it was, kids ended up"outside the club"
Forever bound
To the snickers of others
And incessant gossip of cliques
Where mothers and fathers would ask you how your day went
But all you ever said was "fine"
Not wanting to say what he or she at school had said
Which made you feel self conscience for the briefest of moments
The first time someone had mentioned that of the few
Eligible to possibly join that group
Your nose was too big or your ethnicity didn't match up
And you sauntered on down the hall alone between each passing class
Each day became another fight
To impress the people you envied so
And though you say you envied not
It was always in the back of your mind
Keeping up with the fashion trends
Bending your mind to things you'd "get used to"
And forcing yourself to be who you were not
Each passing day metaphorically new.
The make-up or new shoes you had to acquire
Becoming a liar, and for those passing moments  
Refusing to admit you changed, you turned into the envy you held inside
And anger formed
For as long as you sought to be the one that held the "popular seat"
You could not meet the standards of those who ran the school
Those who set those fashion trends and controlled the halls
With glaring eyes, bending the heads of those who weren't "cool" to their feet
Your anger became a sorrowful doubt
Doubt which turned your insides out
Doubling the pain of exclusion
And adding only insult to the injury
Perhaps one day you realized fast,
That maybe at last you're free from those kids
Who held your talent down to shame
And made lunch a funny game
To see if maybe today you would sit alone
Again and again, each passing day
And I apologize
For on that day
Under that quiet December sky
I witnessed that game, the cool kids played
And sat back and only observed
For who was I to say anything
Paint a target on my back
Yet confidence I did so lack
And on that day I went on my way
As if nothing had ever happened.
Perhaps we all went through this once
Witnesses to a bully
Name called "stupid or "dunce"
Yet we all sat back and watched
And till today I sit
Typing this apology
Realizing I could have made a difference