Her hands were bohemian.

Guitar string calloused finger tips,

Colorful paints speckled her skin.
Fragrent reds, gypsy yellows and healing greens.

Dense plant soil beneath her nails.

Her hands created,
Her hands cooked,
Her hands served,
And toiled.

Her hands were bohemian.

We
Don’t prepare
For
Our  best in life

But
We have
To be prepared
For the worst

The
Man or woman
That loves you
At
Your worst

Is
The one you give
Your best



That’s true love!

Spread love like petals in the breeze
And embrace life with a smile, please

As your life is a gift
So, let your face lift

Soak in the sun
Dark clouds, there are none

And remember
As long a we will all stick together

We can get anything done
As we are all one

So it's time to paint the sky bright
Then, we'll spread our bright light

Because a bright sky is indeed
Just what this world needs.