Favorites from my old book

No Regrets

Is there a light at the end of the tunnel?
A land in the clouds?
A place of saving,
Or does life just get you down?
I can’t live life wondering
What tomorrow will bring
And if today’s all I got
Then at least I’ll know how to sing
My praise for my life
The time I had
And when it’s all over, I hope you’re not sad
Because I had fun
And even though you can forget
If it’s my last moment
I’ll never regret how I spent it.

Dreaming of Autumn

vidid colors drifting in the air
like neon beacons of yellow
red and orange
they flutter to the ground
soft dreams landing easily
far from where they came
mayhap a whistling breeze
may wind its way through the tall posts
which were once these autumn colors’ homes
picking them up with a supernatural hand
swirling them and twirling them
’round and ’round
’til they rest indefinitely in a nook
or crack
in the chill cold embrace
of winter

The Star

A light
In the darkness reminds me that I should not be afraid
It’s only night.
And it’s not the dark, exactly,
That makes me shiver
Nor the way it comes as the light fades
Leaving trails on the mountains, one last time
At dusk.
It’s the feeling of aloneness
That the dark brings.
Of solitude, dark and gray.
And then you wonder,
“Does anybody care?
Can anybody hear me?”
But you hear me
Even the smallest whisper
And suddenly the dark is not so frightening
Not so black, so solitary
Even though you are not here,
You drive away the dark.
Even though you don’t know me
I know you all too well.

You are the light in my eye at night.

Feather

eagles soaring
want to be one
find my place
my freedom.
someone told me i could be them
someday
when i found my wings
i’m still searching but i know
one day i will find
the one thing that lifs me up
because if i don’t i know i will die
from one thing or another
and i’m a fighter
so i won’t go out without flying
once
for now i just watch as others take off around me
ones like me ask me to be their feathers
but i refuse
you have to find your wings
because while the bird flies
the feather dies

Flowers

Flowers bloom, but I don’t see them
I smell them, and that’s ten times better.
You don’t always see with your eyes,
And when you do you don’t always see
Eye to eye.
So that’s why being me
With no eyes to see
Is sometimes better
A relief
From stress, from daily routines
We build our lives around
Because sometimes, you never stop
To see the flowers
Or smell them.