The holidays are approaching once again!  Give the gift of poetry to your loved one.
Follow my link below.

http://www.lulu.com/shop/laura-laveglia/metomorphosis/paperback/product-20237852.html

A Happy Holiday Season for all!

PUMPKIN PICK-IN

At fifty-four (54) years old, I still become excited like an anxiety victim.  Heart pounding, dry mouth, seeking out the most desirable orange, global beauty!  I am taking about a pumpkin!

My dad and I had a tradition when it came to this sport.  We spent the entire day picking and choosing the most rounded, perfect pumpkin nature produced that season.  As usual we would find that perfect specimen.  Then on the way home from the farm, there was an ice cream soda waiting for me and the neighborhood ice cream parlor.  That evening our tradition continued as dad took out his magical oil crayons drawing the perfect face on our gourd.  It was a special day I looked forward to as dad and I would do some awesome bonding as father and daughter.

The day did arrive I so dreaded.  It was time for my dad, Matty Boy, to go back home.  Not only will our pumpkin hunting be missed, but the world is minus one good human being!

Now our ritual is passed down to my daughter Denyce.  My daughter and I go gourd hunting with the same excitement I had with dad.  My father may not be on this Earth physically, but I drag his spiritual body to the patch

Last week brings such warm and fuzzy thoughts, as Denyce and I went on our quest, but this time we went to a farm where you actually cut the pumpkins from the vine.  Unlike a big field of orange hues as far as the eye can see.  You would have thought we died and went to Heaven as we went around this huge farm exploring before we actually cut our victim!  Our faces were hurting from smiling too much!

After a while and I mean a great deal of time has passed, Denyce and I were in the middle of this acre upon acre of pumpkins.  We were becoming exasperated, for our beauty queen winner could not be found!  Just then I decided to call upon the great pumpkin king, my dad!  “Matty Boy, find us a country fair winner with blue ribbons and all”!  Then I went one step beyond and asked the impossible.

“Dad, Denyce loves the color pink, can you find a pink pumpkin for us”?  As fast as I said this, my eyes suddenly became heat seeking missiles as they zoned in to a certain area.  The sun’s rays poured down from the heavens illuminating a pink pumpkin!  Trumpets from angels could be heard!

There it was all by itself.  It reminded me of a Cecil B. DeMilles movie.  When the clouds dispersed and the sun shinned in all its glory!!  Yeah, you heard me right, a pink beauty queen pumpkin!

You can bet that from now on we go to the patch, we will call on the king himself!

So Matty Boy, do your thing for next year ,and this is a big one.   Get your feathered wing ready and you’re down slippers too, for there might be a bit of walking for this one.  This job might call for some fairy dust too, because next time I want a purple pumpkin!!!  Are you up for the challenge my dear old father?

Keku's Poetry and Expressive Writing: Pumpkin Pick-in

Keku's Poetry and Expressive Writing: Pumpkin Pick-in: At 54 years old I still get excited seeking the most desirable orange,  global beauty. I am taking about pumpkin! My dad and I had a trad...

Keku's Poetry and Expressive Writing: My Mother is Me! By Laura LaVeglia

Keku's Poetry and Expressive Writing: My Mother is Me! By Laura LaVeglia: There was a time in younger life when I not only made fun of my mother, but really did not fully understand where she was coming from.  Mom...

Keku's Poetry and Expressive Writing: Lulu the ProstituteI am Lulu a prostitute who liv...

Keku's Poetry and Expressive Writing: Lulu the Prostitute
I am Lulu a prostitute who liv...: Lulu the Prostitute I am Lulu a prostitute who lived in the 1800’s Velvet and pearls were worn upon skin Flowing like rivers drapi...

The Unofficial Blog for Brit Writers and Writers Everywhere!: My Mother is Me? By Laura LaVeglia

My Mother is Me! By Laura LaVeglia

There was a time in younger life when I not only made fun of my mother, but really did not fully understand where she was coming from.  Mom would constantly mention how fast life speeds by.
A beautiful event or holiday would always end each sentence the same
"God Willing".  In moms world this meant if she lived for mention time or place.

I stand here today looking into my magic mirror and the image of mom appears!

 I am my mother at fifty-five years old it is my time to worry about the future!
Mom is getting on in age and it saddens me to see her not the same fast witch on a broom.  I swore at times that women had a machine or secret ring enabling her to go here and there with the speed of light.
Today emphysema took her magic locking it away for ever.

In a week and a half a jet will propel me to Florida with much need  for prosaic after my flight.  Seeing her bright face makes me forget my nerves, well just a bit.   It has been two years since last we saw each other.  I am excited to see her, but there is a side that is not.  To view your mother in a whole new way is not easy.  Promising myself to take sadness and put it into my pocket each and everyday I am with her

It is not easy seeing our parents age, for we all know the reason for the fear.  Death is eminent and much closer then it ever was.  Not that age is the only factor for the Grim Reaper to come a knockin, but it does not help!
I am going to enjoy every moment in my favorite place Florida and keep any negativity buried deep.
I could do that!!!  If a mother and daughter can finally say they are friends, this is a walk in the park.

Enjoy your life everyday and embrace the good moments!!!!  God willing!!!!

By Laura LaVeglia

Please go to my sister site http://britwriters.blogspot.co.uk/.
Many talented writers with interesting subject matters that will bring up some emotions.

May you all have a day,month, and life filled with joy and peace, for all else is trivial.

Laura LaVeglia (Keku)

There Is No Place Like Home

Outside window on verge of eve, is a chickadee waiting for warmth

With a powerful lift, painted closed window sees light of new day

Tied around her beak a beautiful presentation

Silk ribbon heavenly shade of blue, she grips with precision

She sits so delicately upon her chosen women

There is confusion spiraling about

Her hands shaking as chickadee presents the rice paper

Should she keep its contents wrapped and bound with a secret to be found?

Excitement keeps her curious

The delicate woman unwraps its light or dark

But before the paper uncurls, silk ribbon intrigues her senses!

Taking the ribbon across her face caressing its smooth feel

Realizing it must stop

Procrastination is her middle name!

Moments lately, ephemeral and few

So uncurl my girl and read its tale!

Chosen to go back home with your companion is what it said!

Confusion took hold as tilt of the head was placed

Now talking so calmly to this bird

Would never have done this act before

This is ludicrous!

My beautiful chickadee what does this mean?

You are going back home to the paradise you once knew

I am your angel to hold you tight

Fly with me as I take your anxiety away tying into a silk ribbon

This time color of your choice!

Watching the ribbon blow away in the wind

Gracefully following the moon

Taking a journey faintly proverbial

Suddenly luminous white radiance

This comforts woman, realizing blue silk ribbon and its message

There is no place like home!

Anyone who is very close to me, knows my take on reincarnation and how I believe we will all be living many life's and some more then others.  Brought back to Earth to relive our mistakes until we have perfected our human being.
There is a strong believe that I lived in the Victorian Era as a Prostitute and living in jolly old England.
I decided to write a poem about a beautiful young women who's life was taken all too soon!!!!
She was a lady of the evening who lived in the slums of England, but each night she would venture into the better part of town to meet her men.

I hope you enjoy my poem "Why Did't I NotListen to the Crow".

Why Did I Not Listen to the Crow

The crow’s raucous voice heard numerous times

On this night there was an air of apprehension

A warning is told, but only if you are tuned to natures heed!

It was the 1800’s living as a prostitute was a dream or nightmare

Live was not a picnic

Girl of young years uneducated and pretty

What else do I know what to do but to screw very well!

Watching mama and papa all these years

Brought to my young mind this is the way of life!

So here I am, a Victorian woman of the eve

Crossing this bridge became a way of life

Countless times brings into a world of countless dreams

It is five o’clock in morning

The old wives called it the dying of a crow

An explanation can’t be understood

Tiny hairs on arms are erect as familiar penis

The heart pleads not to enter

I drip with most fragrant desire

Just why not one more time!

This has been heard too many times in my head

A night of ecstasy

Shillings fill my pocket

I dream of the market with all its goodies

Crossing over going back home

Legs unsteady ,because door was left open too many times

There is a crow, but not just some crow

Can’t explain the feeling, I felt tonight

He kept screaming something about a man called Jack

Could it be a vision of love tonight?

If only I would have listened more carefully!

Suddenly the air becomes thicker then the fog

Feelings of vomit fill the mouth

I am scared!

Approaching is a gentleman of a lovely air

Convincing myself that is all that is there

We cross each other’s path as he tilts top hat

Batting my eyes ; feel the moisture once again between legs

He stops and the tingle continues

There is something shiny glinting in the dark

A coin for thy?

Oh how smitten I deem

He put his arms around

Feeling his hardness, a smile becomes a part of me

Suddenly feeling faint; wetness, but not of the womanly type

Again, and again he stabs at me

A more sickening sound I have not heard!

It was a knife that shined!

Oh why couldn’t I see!

He cut out my heart and my last breath

Why did I not listen to the crow that night?

He kept screaming “Jack will come to you tonight”!

Stupid me, stupid me!!!

There was a time in my younger life when I not only made fun of my mother, but  really did not fully understand where she was coming from.  Mom would constantly talk about how fast life speeds by.
A beautiful event or holiday as a family would always end each sentence the same
"God Willing".  In moms world this meant if she lived for the moment of excitement.

I stand here today and I am my mother at fifty-five years old it is my time to worry about the future!
Mom is getting on in age and it saddens me to see her not the same fast witch on a broom.  I swore at times that women had a machine or secret ring enabling her to go here and there with the speed of light.
Today emphysema took her magic locking it away for ever.

In a week and a half a jet will propel me to Florida needing prosaic after my flight.  Seeing her bright face makes me forget my nerves, well just a bit.   It has been two years since last we saw each other.  I am excited to see her, but there is a side that is not.  To view your mother in a whole new way is not easy.  Promising myself to take sadness and put it into my pocket each and everyday I am with mom.

It is not easy seeing our parents age, for we all know the reason for the fear.  Death is eminent and much closer then it ever was.  Not that age is the only factor for the Grim Reeper to come a knockin, but it does not help!
I am going to enjoy every moment in my favorite place Florida and keep any negativity buried deep.
I could do that!!!  If a mother and daughter can finally say they are friends, this is a walk in the park.

Enjoy your life everyday and embrace the good moments!!!!

Forth of July has been traditionally spent with my best friend and her family for the past twenty-five years.
As always, I was excited to see my friend and gorge on her barbeque feast.
This has been a part of my family for a quarter of a century.

There is a new member in her family.  My friend became a grandmother for the first time. 
By the way there is a number two on the way any day.  This minature gentelmen makes me laugh and puts an extra step in my stride.  Getting together these days I not only look forward to seeing friends and family, but my new little friend.  His name is Jack and already he is a ladies man.
At two years old, his opinion of my blouse made me so happy

Debut show of the Author's Nook with Laura Grillo Laveglia

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/joeygiggles/2012/09/12/debut-show-of-the-authors-nook-with-laura-grillo-laveglia

This is the archived recording of my show.  Very proud of myself!!!  Enjoy!

In a few months my second book will be published.  "The Butterfly Paradox" is an extension of my first book "Metamorphosis".  I have come quite far as a human being and it shows in my poetry.  The first fifty poems I wrote were balls of poison held so tightly.  Each poem would shed heavy weights from my body.
The second half are funny, light and sometimes heartfelt.  I know longer see or feel anger in my words or life!

It is my great pleasure as I look forward to a second accomplishment.  My poetry is not only a gift from God  but my gift to the world!

The Bodhi Tree

Words simulate dying leafs falling from tree

Find truth within oneself….

Language meaningless as dead wilting leaves wisp away

There was once magnificence with nature

Selfish, meaningless vapors form prison

Chose your expressions cautiously

Do they have feelings from the heart?

Without heartfelt whispers the Bodhi  Tree roots firmly

A second coming, a second chance! 

Embark upon twigs of boundless beauty

I will ring your bell, so be prepared

Each word, each sentence, losses warmth

Petal by petal drops to the hungry earth

Once tree is naked, man gives up the ghost!

Run through golden meadow

Forgive the ones we truly love

Love is the glue that keeps heart shaped leaves hanging on

Once your harvest is clear

The Bodhi Tree regains its warmth

Growing , climbing towards golden light

If a beautiful tree comes knocking for thee

Dig deep inside watching tree cultivate your heart

Spiritual enlightment will grace your door!

"Metamorphosis"

Thank you to all my friends and family for purchasing my book.

Again thank you! May joy and peace  fill your world!!
Laura

I am happy and proud to announce that my first book of poetry "Metamorphosis" has been published!
If anyone is interested in purchasing my book, you can go to lulu.com.

This is what poetry is all about sharing a gift with the world!!!!

Love to you all, Laura

Please read my first poetry interview.  I hope you all enjoy and get to know Laura a bit better!
http://poetrybybarrymowles.wordpress.com/meet-the-poets-interviews/

Lulu the Prostitute

I am Lulu a prostitute who lived in the 1800’s

Velvet and pearls were worn upon skin

Flowing like rivers draping down around

Pressing my fingers and touching my curves

Fullness of breast explode with life

Gentlemen flock my parlor waiting for hours

Kissing each one, I give a wink

For they know what waits

I greet each with passion and longing of long lost lover

There is a bulge before I even touch

A mistress of manipulation!

Walking proud with my head held up high

An ornate bonnet propped proudly upon head

There is a mansion high on the hill calling my own

When I am prowling in town, women scorn me

Giving them a smile, the eyes telling them your man is mine!

There is barely an education that surrounds me

Well not the kind we find in a one room school house

My degree is the highest earned

Teaching men a trick or two gasping for breath

An ornate jeweled pen tells of tale

Jotting down name of lovers

Again, a smile comes to lips

A longing in my lady wear vibrates with life

Yes, I am a prostitute

Victorian promiscuous beauty

Promises of ecstasy will fill your heart, drowning all sorrow

Skin as smooth as silk bathed in perfume

As I think of you tonight!

My History Lesson

Looking back on life was the hardest thing to do

Battles had to be fought leaving soldiers to die

Even the greatest generals drown in their own water

As a child, preparation for battle was always there

They were many scars throughout time

An alliance was contracted so many moons ago

History would never repeat, not in my existence

Did the soul go on auction?

Just the opposite!

Holding tight, never giving up

The mirror held all my dirty deep secrets

Daily rituals were held

Yes, there were sights reflected back that no man should see

Holding down the beauty was the hardest lesson taught

“If I could be more like daddy,” became my mantra

The day arrived when I did become my father

It was the deepest abyss one could climb out of

If I could re-write history!

Well I did!

Marks still remain, except they are kept deep in my pockets

I pull them from my skin and lock them away

Do they still exist?

Sure they do!

Refusing to have history show its dirty face

I would do it all again

The suffering, crying, screaming

History will not repeat itself

I fought hard for my child to never fight in a war

History has been re-written……………

The rest is, well lets’ just wait and see

My Dream of Copenhagen

Sun glinting through century old scrolled iron

My breath was robbed in the most beautiful way

Gazing at a world I know nothing about

Castles and canals come together for a captivating walk

Tivoli, a fairytale starting the moment you leave outside world

Darkness envelopes and Tivoli begins its charm

Step into enchanting universe with romance neighboring every corner

Sporting a copper roof and bounded by moats, Rosenborg Castle

Living within, “The Royal Jewels”

Cinderella, do you live there too!

I cannot tell if I am sleeping or awake

Casting the window open as my eyes seek a feast

Abodes of old making me weep

Oh the stories they could tell

I am ready as you open your doors, turning each page

Canals of Venice are shallow in compare

Colors transporting me to another dimension

It is time to leave and I can’t bear the thought!

Again, I am transfix one more time

The colors, flowers and history

Traveling with Hans Christian Anderson

Even hummed the familiar tune

Copenhagen let the magic begin!

The alarm clock screamed as I was rudely propelled

It was a dream, but I know different

Can you keep a secret……………..

Once upon a time there was Copenhagen

Love of Lilac’s

Warm breeze dancing through window, transports intoxicating perfume

Delicately, but impatiently, coverlet imitates beautiful waterfall

Window is brusquely thrown open engulfing e morning’s beauty

Purple and blue stars forming spectacular view

My hands start to shake as tears fall

Bring perfume to my boudoir, or bask in its beauty?

Crystal vase beckons its call

Sun hugging vase, absorbing and housing its rays

The view is spectacular

Rainbow lights bringing room new life

I can envision fairies dancing on bent light rays

My love of the lilac can no longer wait 

Crazy head tells me to ask

Can I cut your arm?

I will not hurt you as promises are heard

The little girl would cry, chopping your life away

Suddenly tiny petals fall to feet

The new morning is here

Beautiful window to outside world sleeps

Yet, perfume is so strong it wakes me from slumber

Crystal vase housing clusters of lilac greets me

I am engulfed with beauty, grateful for sharing

Quiet Moment of Beauty

Rolling grassland dotted with trees, magical African Savanna
Serengeti Plains brings animal kingdom together for a dance
I wish a ballet with the elephants………….

Rain has blessed this area
I bath where millions have
Muddy and beautiful come together
Can faintly hear an orchestra that attracts splendor
Meditating on sounds of music
Alone with the world
Where I bath creates circles within circles
Turning there is a precious nudge
A baby elephant has come to play
There is a little one who comes face to face
My hand caressing her face
Her face caressing mine

There was a moment in time where time stood still
Silence was deafening
Grandeur was playing as a majestic theme
We sat eye to eye what seemed like hours
The love between cannot be seen
Our souls intermingled

A quiet moment of beauty
Worldly possessions does not equate
Natures riches bequeaths unpretentious grandeur

April is National Poetry Month

Poetry is written from the bowels of our heart and soul. Some of us may not be as gifted, but all of us are capable of writing from the heart. Get your pen and paper ready and pick a subject matter that we are passionate about and write a poem.

You will be surprised at what talents or gifts are hidden within.
Starting in the month of April, please send me your poems at angelulu4.aim.com. I would love to read them. Lets not loose this beautiful art called poetry!!

Roses are red, violets are blue
I love you and you love me

There a simple poem. So go ahead try writing a poem!!

The Famous Boy of Neverland

He walks through metropolitan town
Lost boys surgically attached to hip
They wander aimlessly looking for lost and found
A leaders mind is gone

Searching through rubble, a bottle of gossamer dust
What an interesting piece of glass?
He donned it proudly as a prostitute’s bobbles
Compelling a whiff sends boy soaring through air

Catch me if you can, heard audibly in the wind
Boy’s don't cry, will find my mind tomorrow!

Scrolled iron window belonging to aristocratic family
Peeking as he flew; a young ladies bedroom window
She was startled when his decision was made
Standing there in the nude, gave her quite a fright!
A scream that could curdle milk

That evening, plans were ruined
The boy and his gang never seeing a place far, far away
Well in a sense the leader accomplished that

Authorities wrap him in a pretty white coat
Tilting his top hat as he said adieu!
They did not catch on that he could still fly
Another window was found, but not as pretty: just ugly steel
Brusquely landing on a mattress fit for a king

Eyes roll up like tattered shade’s
He caught a fit that’s the conclusion
Give him pretty pills to eat at noon
He found his mind while dining

Do you know who I am!
Lying there resembling a disheveled rag
I am the great Peter Pan and you are my Lost Boys
Forcefully staying gave him the chills
Peter begged for another chance

Some say his chance was granted
Being found dead in the morning giving solace to his weary mind

I have been flying on a magic carpet ride for the past month ever since I met Barry Mowles, author and entrepreneur. Barry has given me my first break in the literary world. Barry being a renown poet and author gave the opportunity of a lifetime for other poets and myself.
I am now proud to announce that two of my poems "Living in the Moment" and "The Famous Boy of Neverland" is published in two of Barry's books. "Remember My Name" and "Once Upon a Time".
They can be obtained through lulu publications. If you wish to read them, you will find them in this blog.

As they say without any further hesitation, I would like to proclaim my gratitude.
Barry Mowles I will always be in your debt for taking the time, and more then we can all image, and thinking of the little guys.

I can only pray that from this opportunity that my dream of becoming an author will come true.
Also since Barry lives in Europe, Wales to be exact, that my dream of visiting this part of Europe will feast upon my eyes. When never knows. Maybe a big gala presentation of "Once Upon a Time".

From this moment on, I keep confident that anything is possible. Dreams do come true!

Thank you Barry and may your angels keep you flying!

Rozzy McFinney

This is a story about how the rain from heaven came to earth for the first time
Her name is Rozzy McFinney:

She is a silly old gal who would sit with the birds and enjoy her wondrous life.
Rozzy McFinney was a chatty little girl talking every minute of the day. She would often be seen with food flying out of her mouth. The other little birds sat in amazement staring at this curious pretty, petite bird. Rozzy loved to eat with her plump little friends, sharing and foraging food everyday.
Rozzy was loved by all.

“Rozzy come fly with us” one of the feathered gang explained! “Okay”, said Rozzy so excitingly that she almost fell off the branch. Rozzy’s love for flying was even more fun than eating with friends. “Let me press my nose and watch my gossamer wings bud”, Rozzy would shout. “Will you teach me to fly like you”? Rozzy was only a child among her peers, but smarter than the smarty pants in school that we all know in school!
“Watch Rozzy, here comes a plane”! “Fly lower, don't want your wings to get caught”, screamed Tatty. Tatty is Rozzy’s teacher who would brag about his star pupil.
You knew when Tatty would be proudly speaking of Rozzy. His barrel red chest would pop out even further and his hands would wave in the air. Even his eyes would get as big as the biggest acorn when he spoke about Rozzy.

As Rozzy and her friends soared the countryside, they would be in awe watching children below play, and run in their races. Flying for hours with her feathered friends made the crowd very hungry indeed.
So they all decided to swoop down on the warm brown earth and eat boysenberries then snooze for a while. As the sun began dropping in the sky, back to our home we flew.
Home sweet home at last! Settling in for the night all snuggled together.
Rozzy we are so happy and excited you chose us to sit among the stars at night and fly into the sun at day said Tatty s so proudly!
“But why and why do you love me so”? “Rozzy McFinney, you are a silly old gal and that is one of the reasons why we all love you so”! “You are kind, and generous and always helping us whenever you can”! “We all love you with our heart and soul”!
“You are our little angel we prayed for every night”! “What do you mean” said Rozzy with delight. “Rozzy you are not a little girl, nor are you just a bird, but an angel in disguise training with us birds”! She was so dizzy with this new information.
“Do you mean we live in heaven”, said Rozzy. “Yes”, exclaimed Tatty.

And this is how it rained for the first time on earth. Rozzy was so overwhelmed with joy that her big brown eyes swelled up with water and tears fell to earth. And they fell, and they fell.
So now when you are sad about rain ruining your day, you will think of Rozzy in heaven crying for joy and that will turn your frown into a smile!

Copyright 2012 Laura C. LaVeglia ©

My Valentine

The old dress I wore becoming lost in time
Colors once vivid, bold losing brilliant hues
Feelings, smells, sensations lost in a mud hole
My mind trying to grasp on to euphoric reminiscences
Spiraling dimension of mind brings solace and joy
Grabbing on to chains that once held

There was a time when love was exuberate
Orgasms comforted by tears
It was all so primitive comforting my mind
Then bubbles burst brusquely
Did not know the whys
Sitting in a quiet corner brings reasons
At first the water is calm
Oceans start to swell

There are huge waves that crash
The reason thrown at my feet

I was given beauty
I was given it all
If not for a short occasion
Love was felt as thunderous wild horses
Whys ascend to surface

My special love remains until the end of time
Locked away in my chamber
Deep within
I remain eternally grateful

"Living in the Moment"

Please purchase Barry Mowles newest poetry book "Remember my Name".
Barry has given the opportunity of a lifetime for some poets and writers. This book is a poetry
book with poets from around the world which Barry has included in his book.

I am privileged to among many talented poets. You will not be disappointed and you will be giving many poets the opportunity that can possibly propel their careers as poets.

Thank you in advance for purchasing "REMEMBER MY NAME". If you are a lover of poetry, you will
not be disappointed!!

Living in the Moment

The opaque glass bestows insinuation of beauty
Awaking at sunrise, portrays icicles clinging to life
There is coffee and oatmeal waiting for its execution
I feel burst of warmth hiding inside
The dog brushes head on arch of thigh
A child bringing laughter to the mundane

A reflection from window gives hope
Red bird of happiness has shown colors
Maple tree, dressed in all its glory
Luminous presentation for its occupants

Bring me back to present
There is a tear upon my cheek
Remember when
Will this be?
How can I do this without the what?

Then I am cast upon the present
Being thrown against window
A reminder of now
The beauty of simplicity
Forcing to think, I ponder
Living in the present gives comfort
Living in the unknown scares me to blackness

The rose is swelling with life…………….

Never to be forgotten

A man was lying in the street
I knew he was poor
White lose fitting garment
As immaculate as a morning sky
His eyes looked familiar
Kind loving and bright
Blue with white lights
Eyes were glowing
Wife was shown briefly
Dressed in black and white
Slender, dark hair
Beautiful thick wavy hair
A baby was born
I was told he was sick and dying
I asked if the wife knew
She would not understand
Not ready for this lifetime
The whole time, he was sad
Kinder gentlemen I will never meet
I dreamt of Jesus that night

My World

Morning conveys tranquil moments, as lilac perfumes air
Birds serenade our world flying across the sky
Petals twirl down dancing as they strike ground
Robins wrench there breakfast
Worms say adieu to the world they once knew
I can feel and sense the morning dew
A new day pronouncing novel developments