From the Grass
Homesick
There's a place somewhere
Many Miles out
Far from home
Across cerulean oceans
And golden deserts
This place is magical
It’s as if all you could see were stories
Marks of life from times before
The struggle of existing
But the beauty of it too
Legend has it that
It's been around since the beginning of time
And it will be around long after too
It won't be scary
As you’ve seen it before
Fields of grass stretching
Flowers bloom Tecnicolor
with petals as big and bright as the sun
This place is as beautiful as angel wings
For it houses them too
This place can be whatever you want
As it’s been waiting for you
When the ground gives again
You’ll find yourself at peace
As the cycle continues on
It brings you
The trees bring you
The animals bring you
The flowers bring you
And it glows with
Life
You must ask the question
“How can this be?”
A place so full of life it's hard to believe
And your soul will answer
It is
If the Stars Could Speak
They’d say they glow within you
They'd tell you how they rise and fall with the breath of a thousand soldiers and poets
They’d wonder if you’ve ever felt them
For they have felt you
In everything
And they sing
With life
I Want to Write
I want to write about my first words,
Soft whispers of wonder,
new voice all my own
My first smile, the light in my eyes,
A moment of joy under wide open skies.
I want to write about the early days,
A world so big, seen from down low,
Once everything sparkled, and time moved slow.
I want to cradle my tiny body in my arms,
Feel the warmth, the innocence
Look down at my own eyes, wide with surprise,
The same way as my mother, I realize.
I remember the sound of the swing set
And I remember the sound of silence.
I want to capture the echoes of laughter,
The first steps taken, the dreams chased after.
The lullabies sung in the hush of the night,
And the love, pure and bright
I want to honor those memories dear,
The first words spoken, the smiles clear.
To see through the eyes of the child I once was,
Embrace the journey, just because.
New York
Fog rolling on the East River Bay
The heels of my boots tap the century-old cobblestone streets
Click
Click
Click
The corner stores radiate with a feeling of
belonging
At peace here
In this city
Hot coffee heating up my hands
Plaid printed scarf and brown faded leather jacket
I’m cold
As it is still winter
After all
but my heart warms as
I imagine the stories of each and every brick building
Because as F. Scott Fitzgerald said, “life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.”
