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| Floating on the thermals Sun glinting on their hides Dragons playing chasey Tails whipping as they dive Majestically they fly Under the snow white clouds Wings spread wide for soaring So high above the ground Flying to their caverns To rest in lairs so warm Protecting fragile eggs Until the young are born Dragons of all colours Are never to be found By people just like us Who can not leave the ground Our imagination Is where these beasts do lie Until there comes a day When we have wings to fly |
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| You're the someone in my life You're the fire that lights my way You're the point to the jagged knife That cuts me through each day When I found life was getting hard And running was my answer You were the one who dealt the card That led me far from danger For these alone, I whish to thank You for your time with me For it was you, when I was blind That opened my eyes to see |
| Every time I look at you I can see it in your eyes The pain and hurt you've suffered It makes me want to cry I know what you have gone through For your eternal quest for love You're always looking for it But neglecting what you have Don't look for desires of tomorrow For tomorrow never comes Instead, hold on to friendship From which can turn to love Laughter's the best medicine Or so that's what people say But just a shoulder to lean on Can help you through each day Remember, if life seems to you The darkest hour of night Think of all your friendships And things will be all right |
| For someone who hardly knows you I feel like I've known you so long I don't want to feel like I owe you Don't think my intentions are wrong I have this feeling inside me That wants to break out and be free But I know full well I must hide it Or else I'll let everyone see That my feelings for you run deeper Than the deepest rivers do flow And if you thing 'do I need her?' Just remember, and then you will know That I don't love you as many may put it Or lust for your body that way I'm just there as a friend if you need it And that's how I hope it can stay Who cares if there's some who don't like you For mistakes you have made in the past For it's only yourself that will know True friends, for always, will last |
| Till I met you I thought nothing would go right in my world But you changed that You gave me something to hold Happiness. I know it's true How much a friend can be helpful In times of need And I am grateful For your friendship. Believe me do When I say thanks for your understanding And kindness to me Has much meaning To the way I feel I know I've been difficult at times and stubborn I'm like that sometimes But you have been patient Like a true friend. I'm sorry If what I've said or done Has ever upset you I don't ever mean to make you feel put down Forgive me. Thanks For everything you have given me Your friendship, your time Your positive energy I love you. |
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| Elsie Everyday she sits by the window in a faded blue armchair the fabric worn thin. Pinned on her chest, a brooch of a flower with gaudy cut glass set in fake gold-plated tin. What does it mean? This cheap nickel jewelry to a lonely old lady with no family. Was it a gift from a lover when young, the last thing he gave before going overseas? Maybe I'll ask if it was a token from one of her grandchildren who visit no more. Did her husband give it to her as a present and she keeps it to remember him for. 'Hello Elsie,' I sit by her armchair, 'That's a lovely brooch there, is it from somebody dear?' 'Oh no sweet girl,' She says looking at it. Her voice rusty from disuse, and wipes at a tear. 'Nurse Riggs found it and gave it to me but I think it so awful.' She said with a laugh. 'Everyday she pins it on me but with my arthritic fingers I can't undo the clasp.' |
| Sleeping In Luxuriating in the post-coital bliss of our lovemaking, I glance at the luminous numbers of the digital clock; glowing green, bathing your outstretched arm in an otherworldly light. 4:45am The clock hums contentedly to itself and I think how lucky I am. 10 years we have been together, and the passion is better than the first time, now that we know each other intimately. Like all famous lovers, are we destined to be bystanders in our own destruction? Or will we fade gracefully and quietly away, tucked in our own corner of Eden, mindful of the Serpent. 5:07am I should wake you, for it�s �the big day�, but I don�t want to lose this moment. Will it change? Once vows are exchanged, speeches made and presents opened, will the magic still be there? I drift back to sleep, dreaming of weddings. �Shit!� Your yell startles me from my dozing. 8:26am �Of all the days to sleep in! We have to be at the church in 2 hours.� We both jump out of bed and in the frenzy of activity, our previous night�s promises scatter in the wind. For how can it ever be the same? I gently touch your cheek. �I must be going,� I whisper, unsuccessfully trying to hide my pain. �You will make a great husband, and my sister will be a beautiful bride.� |
| Two sides of the same coin They sit together on the sofa, heads bowed over a picture book. Grandmother and Granddaughter. Two sides of the same coin. One in the twilight of her life, the careworn lines of her face a map of rugged terrain telling of the hard life she has lived. The other, in the dawn of childhood, smooth skinned and chubby cheeked, a cherub innocent of the ravages life will throw at her. Faded blue eyes like worn denim still sparkle but there is a hint of sadness, the loss of loved ones leaving their mark. Slate gray eyes bright with the wonder of new experiences, delighted with what each day brings, eager to learn. Sunspots and sagging jowls disguise the beauty once evident. Only when she smiles does the radiance shine through. Pouting lips and a sprinkle of freckles promise the beauty to come. That she will wear it with confidence is the right of the young. Two sides of the same coin, forever connected though always different. |
| Mists of Avalon �More violence overnight with the stabbing�.� I tune out the mosquito buzz of the morning radio. Yet more bad news and savor the aroma wafting from my steaming cup of coffee, a delicate perfume to the waking nose. I pick up the ratty old novel about Guinevere I have been reading. Bought at the local market for 50 cents, it is dog-eared and missing the back cover. Someone�s cherished treasure, now discarded and fallen into my care. With the book clutched in one hand and the cup in the other, I venture out to greet the waking day� And shiver with the unexpected cold; the first Autumn morning after a filthy hot summer. I can't see the street. The mist laps onto the porch like the waters at Avalon as the sun feebly tries to pierce the shroud covering Mother Earth. I sit on a damp cane chair and ponder Guinevere�s fate. Was she ever real? And if so, was she a wicked adulteress betraying her husband? A daughter of Eve, witch and whore in the eyes of the Christians? Or was she a victim of her destiny, a true follower of the Mother faith, Druid, wedded to the land and fulfilled by Lancelot while still loving her husband Arthur? I sip my coffee and wonder. Where is my Lancelot? Will he come riding through the glowing mist to take me back to his �Joyous Garde�? Lost in my own reverie, I am startled by the screen door slamming. I look to my Avalon but the mist has thinned to show instead the street in all its concrete glory. My dream is broken. �Mum!� a little voice scolds, �I�m hungry.� Smiling at the impatience of children, I release my musings to the reality modern life, and leave Guinevere to her doom. |