Blonde-haired girl waiting for something, I don’t know what,
standing there with a look of mischievous happiness on your face.
I see the wind tussle your hair, delicate blowing strands, see the sunburst
on your blonde hair – an explosion of gold, beauty eternal at this moment.
Head slightly bowed, eyes ahead, mouth resting on your pink cardigan.
You must be thinking of something funny, see you smile for an instant –
sun through the clouds.
For few precious minutes I watch you, you don’t see me, I see you
and do this poem for you, blonde girl waiting for something – what?

The lady in red,
brightly sparkling,
Sharing her warmth
but not flaming

Gave a laughing pose
and left quickly.
A pleasant rose,
also prickly.

Better just to look
to be admired.
Will keep you away
in a distance wired.

Rules are very odd,
sometimes very strict.
She is a flower
meant not to be picked.

Rules to being a lady
As told by the women in my life
1.Don't put your elbows on the table
2.Don't chew with your mouth open
3.Let the men get the doors
4.Say please and thank you
5.Don't speak out of turn
6.The oldest man goes first in the house(for anything)
7.Clean the house
8.Lay out his clothes
9.Cook his meals
10.Be a ***** if you need to be but only if it doesn't make him feel uncomfortable
Rules to being me
As told by me
1. Listen to how you feel
2.If it feels right then do it
3.If it doesn't then don't

As I walked on the street alone, I saw a lady who seemed to be quite sad and lost.

I asked what was the problem.
She told me that her name was Peace and that she was homeless as man's heart had frost.

She told me about her children dying and the ones who seemed quite sick. She told me about how much the wars and their results had really cost.

And explained to me the many vain efforts to prevent her children to fall ill to this Sickness had crost.

let me dissolve in your ocean
blue
somewhere, someone
belongs
where waves crash
the same
and the tide doesn't mind
gentle, now
this movement touches
bare skin
at the shoreline,
she dances too often
tracing footprints in sand
before he washes hers
away
leaving but a seashell
behind
a lonely goodbye,
and a smile to drown
beneath
"lady in blue"