Photos are all I have At times, Of smiling familiar faces, My family spread out. I would travel often

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

Half a world away, I walk a narrow, stone path. In the rice fields, the Balinese people

Her smile was like gold, Her lines were often bold, Her stories of wisdom told, In books that are now sold. She has left the earth,

The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.

The gift of summer Is the sound of a Creek flowing through Rocks. A blue bird perched

Walking on the beach of long ago, the constant roll of the gulf, it’s sound, like a lullaby.

Soft gray clouds pass slowly by, Soon they will release a gift of r… Trees are shedding their leaves As they turn red, orange and yello… Signaling the squirrels to collect…

It is what it is Despite my wishes for it, Otherwise. You are who you are Despite my expectations,

Memories of my childhood Visit more and more Each day, As ghosts of past relatives Cast their shadows,

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

Tonight, the wind whistles as it rushes through the atmospher… Winter’s bare limbs of swaying trees, dance in the shadows.

Last night I dreamt that I floated above the clouds, above the earth and my heart

What is truth? It’s a changing sky, One day clear, The next, cloudy, Holding the blue and grey,

Squirrels with bushy orange tails leap about the deck. Crickets hum, confused that it’s not dark yet. The caw of a blue jay