It wouldn’t matter
should you not have any,
for the Canadian police force
has four legs too many.
Galloping in fields,
but in alleyways long,
the arm of the law
Has no legs to stand on.

she's an island;

pale as the ocean mist
veiling the rugged shoreline.
with chubby freckled cheeks
framed by coppery red curls,
lashed up in fishtail braids,
or left loose in the salty breeze,
falling down to her shoulders,
broad and wind-weathered.

her laughter is the crash
of waves on the dock.
or the roar of the eastern winds,
that scour the northern seas.

If you like this poem let me know,
I live in Canada,
Oh all the snow.

I am a Caucasian female,
I guess i'm pretty bright,
Can't stop watching the news about the fight!

Worried and happy,
ALIVE! so alive,

I'm 28 and so far; I have been able to get by,

If your like me and love to write,
Something you could do almost every night,

Add me as a friend,
And comments we can send,
Stories and poems to pretend,
Again and again.

Maybe the truth,
The plot that gets foiled, yes, are youth,
Disappearing like the petals of a rose,
But our words stay in the souls,
Who read,

Reading.... read... done.