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.

Life goes on...

Life goes on..

Life goes on.

Turns and twists

Change in the course

Smooth rides

Or bumpy flights

Breaking up

Or making up

Taking all in stride

March with pride

Create a world

Enjoy soliloquy

Life goes on.

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? 

Sand Castle

                                                       Diligently, she gathers

                                                            Gritty sand and hard pebbles, 

                                                            Unmindful of marks they leave on her hands.

                                                            Earth's laps

                                                            Invite her to build

                                                            The mansion of her dreams.

                                                            With imagination running riot,

                                                            She creates a castle from the sand,

                                                            Little realizing the awaiting fate .

                                                            A sound penetrates,

                                                            The rising crescendo, 

                                                            Of advancing waves.

                                                            She awaits

                                                            with stoic countenance,

                                                            The inevitable of it.

                                                            Touching her feet

                                                            In penance,

                                                            Waves envelop her dream.

                                                            She kneels down,

                                                            Crumbled remains

                                                            Pass through her fingers.

                                                            She stares

                                                            At her crumbled dream,

                                                            Diligently she gathers,

                                                            Gritty sand and hard pebbles.