I speak my mind
But no one listens
My voice meets silence
Passions are ridiculed

The world is deaf and blind
Lost in their own noise
They Ignore and cut off.
So willing to hurt.

But a spark of attention
Is a burning flame
Thoughts intermingled
are relevant and dear.

A sweet voice is heard
Away from the crowd
Far from the noise
Close to the heart.

We converse upon her shore
Sometimes a gentle whisper
Sometimes a racious roar.

Her mood changes by day
Sometimes a sapphire blue
Sometimes a dreary grey

Our dates aren’t always nice
Sometimes warm with sun
Sometimes cold as ice

Can’t get her to obey
But still I want to stay.

She whispered to a rose
A lovely morn do you suppose?
The daffodils have had their fill
The water on their petals spill
Chirping frogs and chickadees
Crickets add their energy
An orchestra! the sun joins too
A mist as sunlight frees the dew.
Her voice a quiet hush
In fellowship enjoys the rush.
Adore the offspring of her toil
Such beauty found on garden soil

A cool moist breeze stings my neck, and I shudder.
Gray betrays hope, guarding the sky against it.

Snowflakes meander and fall on dead leaves
Absorbed into an insipid scene

Twigs to be burned in spring celebrations.
Are no longer snow bound

Nature conspires against the grey
Life is its weapon of choice

Anxiety! My nerves are toast!
A long escape, I need the most.
I want a room, an ocean view.
This boring place, I’ll trade for new.
I’ll give my heart soul and time.
Damn the cost it shall be mine!
Like a star without the pay,
I’ll take my heart and fly away!
But everywhere my travels took,
I’d find myself in a book.
At hotels, ships, an unreal crowd.
We’d party hard and party loud.
My peaceful home called to me.
I dreamed of quiet, dreamed of trees.
The gentle breeze I’m feeling now.
Away from noise, away from crowds.
Away from cars, away from planes.
A patch of sod that stays the same.
Watch the leaves that slowly fall.
Close my eyes as wild birds call.
My home’s OK, at least it’s real.
Relaxing here, that’s how I feel.

Who can explain love?
It doesn’t have a form
Can we measure it’s breadth
or scale its height.
Where does it start?
Where does it end?
How does it move?
Who dare stand before it
and command it to come and go?
Who can set limits on love?
Always in want for more,
we bid what it commands.
Can love be patient?
This demanding taskmaster.
So hard to hold back
Won’t wait for the proper time.
Maybe time is the enemy.
Our meager container
Who can hold enough?
Who can give enough?
One lifetime can only taste.
Is happiness our pursuit?
Or is it love??