Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.

Life is not fair at times... But of course things Change quickly down the line, We are born into a No guarantee world.

Mr. R. would talk about his deceased brother, he dreamed about him frequently; also of an eagle

Driving through the small towns of America, children of all colors playing in the streets, some with tattered clothes

Old friends walking on the beach, the waves bring in, memories, of carefree days;

Sometimes wonder about a star, way afar. How life might be in outer space,

The flesh withers as we age But our inner spirit Remains the same. And when the body dies The spirit breaks free

At that magical time When the yellow moon Sets, And the pink mist Of dawn,

In the dead Of Winter, I long for Spring. In the rains Of Spring,

Sitting on the lake shore, Which made my heart soar, The water rippled at times, Swirled into beautiful lines, Clouds reflected in it’s mirror,

Life is a day dream So they say, With every beat Of my heart, The gate to love

There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds, The hidden imperfections Of my existence.

The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,

On this New Year’s Eve Direction lost Drifting like blowing snow To and fro. A freeze comes

Autumn wind Brings scattered leaves, Splattered, With red and gold. Autumn wind