Sunnys_poems2

The rain patters gently,
I look out and sigh,
for the wet grass,
so green, looks far away,
though it really is nigh.
I've been sick a week,
wanting to go outside,
in this sweet summer's,
with warm heat, and collide,
with the rich, brown earth,
though now that I'm well,
I almost wonder why.
The beauty before me,
enters my mind,
I open the porch door,
breathing the fresh air,
the rain sings it's lullaby.
I feel whole now,
and I no longer cry,
I love a nice rain,
it helps me relax,
I'll never again, let something this wonderful, pass me by.

Love.
What is it?
Is it a sensation?
Is is from a store?
Or is it maybe, more?
Is it from a wallet?
Is it from a purse?
Is it when you never utter a curse?
Love?
What is it?
What does the word mean?
Is it just a word?
If so, why is it proferred?
What the heck does it mean?
Does it come from the heart?
Or when someone plays a part?
Love.
What is it?
Don't say the word to me.
Unless you know what it means.
If not, I don't care for beans.
Don't talk to me of
Love.

Real magic,
comes from within.
If you reach,
you can grasp it.
If you strive,
you can catch it.
If you believe,
you can do it.
If you have faith,
you can harness it.
If you try,
you can acomplish it.

When you believe,
things come true.
When you have faith,
things go good for you.
When you imaging,
things can exist.
When you dream,
things aren't on a list.
When you play,
things aren't always a game.
When you believe in God,
His love stays the same.

If I loved a poor boy,
I'd not need roses.
I'd love daises, tulips,
lilacs, wildflowers or posies.
Just something common,
picked by the road.
To show true affection,
he need not spend a load.
Anyone can spend money,
not everyone can charm.
Not everyone has that money,
that comes right with smarm.
I just need a daisy,
picked by the road.
To be convinced that your love,
is there by the load.

Unicorns shining bright,
Glimmering soft,
On this warm moonlit night.

Unicorns purifying water,
Making it sweet,
For a gentleman's kind daughter.

Unicorn's horns gleam,
Healing their wounds,
While their believers dream.

Unicorns feathered feet,
prance arround light,
Quietly dancing to a beat