A place for poems and pics
there was a girl
who dreamed about
a bright yellow sun
a golden construction
paper circle in the
clear blue sky
a warm and friendly sun
whose rays reached out
to touch the cotton ball
clouds as they passed by
there was a girl who pressed
her nose against the rain
streaked glass and dreamed
there is still plenty
of time – make a difference
be kind to the earth
If time would slow down
– just a little
I might be able to catch
up, to make my bed, get
the laundry done, buy some
groceries, even cook a meal
Instead I’m running
behind, late, feeling like
Alice – down the rabbit hole
into the looking glass
Always one step away from
the latest trend, slang, fashion
If time would slow down
– for just a second maybe
I wouldn’t have lost you
They were children playing
grown-up that last
summer of innocence
The sun was their constant companion
sand the bed they slept upon
waves lured them into
the embrace of the sea
laughter was the music of
wind chimes floating
across the beach
blue sky was a canopy
hanging over their
perfect idyll
And when the seasons changed
so would their lives but
they couldn’t see it coming
does the robin cry
tears of sorrow upon the
loss of small blue eggs
I pray for rain
Not a silly drizzle but
A cleansing downpour
They do not care my
Fenders are covered with
Highway dust bunnies
I can barely see through
grime streaked lenses
How difficult would it
Be to uncoil that hose
Hanging at the back
Of the house
It would be a treat to
Scamper through a car
Wash now and then to
Feel bubbles tickling
My bumpers and
Savor the swishing fingers
Of chamois running over
My roof
They do not care
I pray for rain
You patiently wait just
Hanging about behind
The back door, under a
Car seat, often in the trunk
No fair weather friend, you
Brolly, bumbershoot, umbrella
Red awning with happy white dasies
Often lost, but not forgotten
On call at a moments notice
You open your arms to
Shelter me from disturbances,
cloudbursts, downpours
Parasol, gamp, canopy
Welcome companion in all seasons
Sometimes forgotten, but not lost
Plump gray clouds cover the sky
They bump, jostle, gently sigh
then carelessly overflow
with no care for those below
A woman loves customs –
traditions – the architecture
of her life
She holds the tremulous
rememberances tightly in
her tender heart
as she wanders through
a city of zombies who
have forgotten
there was a tear in her
coat pocket and
nickles
and
quarters
and
keys
fell out leaving a trail of
lost items behind
she wondered if there
might be a similar tear
in her brain trailing
names
and
dates
and
recent
memories
the pocket could be
patched but she wasn’t
so sure
about
the
brain
rhymeswithbug 