Yellowed Canvas

Waiting for the words....

Among the cacophony of sounds,
She,
Listens,
Words yet not sung,
Reads
Stories yet not written,
Imagines,
Future yet not known.

She rests her pencil,
On the scratched and yellowed canvas,
As she waits,
For the words,
She needs to write one day.

Cocoon

Wind blows,lifting,

Finely woven quilt, of fragile emotions.

As it flies away, by sudden gust,
I hold onto it, with all my might.

Wind rests,
Once again,I slip inside,

Tender warmth of cocoon woven tight.

Cocoon

Gust

Smile

Smile and bear,

As nothing lasts forever.

You and you only,

Will write your destiny,

To cry or Rejoice.

No one will hold the candle,

To light the approaching night.

Destiny untold and unknown,

Will hold you in tentacles tight.

Why not,

Live the day as it unfolds,

With spirit and smile?