Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Nov 2019 Silverflame
Poetress2
When I think of what, a Mother is;
You are at
the top,
of the most special list.
-
Your touch is as soft,
as a fluffy, white cloud;
I'm always Blessed,
when you are around.
-
You always have time,
to spend with me;
You certainly are,
a Blessing indeed.
-
So on this Merry Christmas Mom,
I wish I could give you,
more than this song;
I'd give you the World, I'd give you the Stars,
and I'd help you to see,
how special you are.
“As arrant squall enters from all corners,
As our daily rituals must procure to dormant,
Lacking warmth of suns touch upon our skin,
As the winter winds ere upon our ambience,  

As our once daily formality would bring us,
Alongside a cool pool a beach or just quirks,
A spathe of skin an apprise bronze from the sun,
As dangling brown leaves parched fall to terrain,

As a sunken suns down in early afternoons,
The winter bellowing of moons as they procure,
Branches of once fruits and such now withered,
Now lay along the cold grown fallen as chill beckons,
The winter sings of creeping crows,

Beneath the blaze of summer hung the beauty foliage,
Flowers to be inherent upon a warming spring,  
Graciously arranged to fade beneath a winters squall,
Once bright green leaves dying and sizzling on the trees,
As lonely fledgling birds pay respect as they fly west,
As they seem to say Adieux Summer once again”

By Andrew Guzaldo © 10/30/2019 #170
By Andrew Guzaldo © 10/30/2019 Poem#170 Hello Poetry
Next page