Rain, Nature, and Mom

 

An early morning rain falls soft and slow,
Cool little drops with a gentle glow.
I wish I were that little child once more,
Playing beside Mom as I did before.

Staring at her face, forgetting the rain,
Smiling through joy, through every tiny pain;
Perhaps a little scolding would come my way,
Yet I’d still want to laugh and play.

Nature feels like happiness, pure and true,
But Mom, my heart always returns to you;
Of all the moments life gave to me,
You remain my sweetest memory.

The Last Goodbye

When sickness pauses life and stops the breath,

And brings us close to that long sleep of death,

Our beating heart brings back the days gone by,

And wishes for the dreams we left to die.

At that last hour, when nothing else remains,

And zero counts the riches and the pains,

We only want one look, one gentle word,

From that one person who our spirit stirred.

Our poor, sad heart knows well it cannot speak,

Too tired now to find what it would seek;

It feels so sorry, and the tears fall down,

Without a word, without a smile or frown.

No hands to wave, no final words are said—

Just one small tear upon the quiet bed,

Rolling gently from the corner of the eye,

To say the softest, and the last, goodbye.

It's Okay

When fate descends with all its heavy weight,

And ties your hands before the crushing blow,

There is no room to question or debate,

No place to turn, no other way to go.

You stand defenseless as the storm rolls in,

And feel the helplessness of bending bone,

Where even struggle is a fading sin,

And you are left completely on your own.

Yet deep inside, where quiet truths reside,

A gentle whisper stills the rising fray;

No bitter tears, no anger left to hide

The battered heart just softly sighs: "It's okay."

The Currency of Time

So much of time has drifted down the stream,

That "sorry" and "thank you" are empty now;

We wake from what was once a living dream,

And ask no pardon, nor will make a bow.

No one remains to listen or to speak,

The doors are closed against the quiet plea;

Though true the love we once were bold to seek,

It drowned beneath a vast, indifferent sea.

The days are priceless, bought with breath and bone,

Yet feelings stand like trifles in the dust;

We walk the heavy miles of earth alone,

Where time has eaten every ancient trust.

The Movie of Our Days

When looking back, the tears and laughter blend,

The heavy depressions and the silent sighs,

The love we held so close unto the end,

All lose their sharp and agonizing cries.

The ones we loved, the ones we fought and burned,

Now look like simple mortals, pure and kind;

We wonder how the pages might have turned

If we had left no shadow left behind.

Would all their joys have doubled, unconstrained,

If I had never crossed their shifting track?

It matters not what losses have remained,

Or what the silent years can render back.

Despite the weight, the trouble, and the strife,

I hold the truth: I lived a brilliant life.

The Dream Where I Find You

Yes, it is only a dream,

Where I hold you close and tight;

A little world of happiness,
Where everything feels right.

It is the only place I see you,
The only place you stay;
So every night I wait for sleep,
To meet you there again someday.

Just one moment of that bliss,
One embrace I long to feel;
A dream may never become real,
Yet somehow it makes me heal.

The Heart Remains a Child

Though time may wear and weary wisdom fade,

This foolish heart refuses to grow old;

It stumbles through the mess of errors made,

And hopes for grace before the tale is told.

I lose my way and let the hours depart,

Floating alone upon a misty stream,

Where gentle winds console a stubborn heart,

And brush my cheek to keep alive the dream.

They kiss my face and whisper through the air:

"No matter what the passing years may cost,

The child remains forever beating there,

Whose pure and simple wonder is not lost."