Smells of such delight,
waft through the quiet house
I hear my mother stirring,
though she's quiet as a mouse.

The gentle whistle of the kettle,
upon the stove I hear,
Two cups set out with tea bags,
for me and mother dear.

I pour the boiling water,
she slices warm and toasty bread.
A bit of butter, jam...
with my tastebuds, wed.

We talk about the future,
tea leaves scattered in the cup.
I hear my sisters laughing,
while they're getting up.

I am fading all away,
just a little at a time,
still spreading stories of my life,
with poetry and rhyme.

Imagination, took me paths
through many different lands,
I've made music with my words,
wrote them in longhand.

I took footpaths without traces
of passage there before,
explorations and expeditions
upon truly foreign shores.

I've ideas never thought before,
I bet you'll never see,
anything like them anywhere,
because they just occurred to me.

My cup of coffee steaming,
in the early morning sun,
my mind needs gentle cleaning,
gathered thoughts becoming one.

Bring to life my vision here,
in this time and hour,
not much happens yet, I fear,
see bumble bee's boring power.

Call out to me, I'm listening,
ideas, where are you now?
Show a glimmer, a glistening,
lost again, I don't know how.

Through the windows of my soul
I dream a world long dead,
A world of innocence now lost,
Memories trapped inside my head.

I see them now as raindrops fall,
Tears on the pane as twilight creeps.
My mind drifts back to girls I loved,
I see, I smile and gently weep.

As darkness falls on winter’s edge,
Leaves kiss the bough farewell,
My thoughts caress the girls I knew
Strong youth with passion swelled.

We walked the pastures, a girl and I.
Held hands, so quiet, a girl so shy.
Sat close together in the shade of an oak
Her head on my shoulder, no words we spoke.

Across green meadows below the copse
Soft white lambs ran and played and hopped,
And gambled and frolicked in soft spring sun
While round us gentle bumbles hummed.

Further still we could hear the sea,
Waves lapping borne on oceans breeze,
Above, blue sky no clouds in view,
When into the oak a raven flew.

In innocence, he gave his heart,
To a girl, a work of art.
Her smile, a radiant beam,
Captivated him, his love's sweet dream.

She moved on, to higher halls,
Where older boys, with charm, enthrall.
Their words, a sweet, siren's call,
Lured her in, beyond them all.

He watched, as she slipped away,
Into a world, where he couldn't stay.
The older boys, with confidence bold,
Took her hand, and his heart grew cold.

The chill still kissed, a fading, winter sigh,
But sunlit air held promises nearby.
A path I took, where signs of waking stirred,
A gentle breeze, a whispered, hopeful word.

Crocus cups, in purple, gold, and white,
Burst from the earth, a dazzling, pure delight.
Tulips unfurled, their painted petals bright,
And daffodils, like suns, embraced the light.

I call the wind a nuisance
It burbles and gurgles all night
Till I take antacid to let it out,
Then I feel alright.

A whisper of bone, a sudden descent,
The world tilted sideways, her strength almost spent.
A fall, a fracture, a body betrayed,
The doctor's grim words, a future unmade.

They pieced her together, with glue and with care,
A delicate puzzle, fragile and rare.
"You might not walk straight," the whispers did say,
But a fire within her refused to obey.

There was a poem
written in his eyes

even before I knew
of such things.

I, the little girl always searching
for words and meaning,

saw his language there,
the beauty and balance of life,

the quietude of few words
unfolding like blankets, rivulets,

mantles of verse and rhyme,
untangling a sadness I

could never understand, making
the world a kinder place, delivering

inspirations and courage as this
child wandered into her dreams.