Poetry

In the past, I've been known to write a little poetry. I haven't done any for a while - but there will be some emotional times ahead. So I'm sure that new ones will spring up....

There was a waterfall,
Now lost in the mist.
Forcing water from river to stream.
If you stood on the rocks
Close to the falls
You could sometimes hear voices,
Crisp and clean.
Voices telling stories
We are afraid to admit.
The voices, of late, are fading,
Existing only in long forgotten dreams.
But the water from the falls
Will always be flowing
Merging the river
and stream.

Kicking out in the darkness,
Everything I break is made of glass.
Nothing can survive this storm.
Drowning in a sea of tears,
Racing to unlock the door
And find a way into the garden
of the Queen of Hearts.

I stand of solid ground
                           with a shovel
I dig to make mountains
                          all around me.
Mountains taller than I can
                          ever hope for.
As the others grow and grow
                         up to the stars.
My solid ground begins to
                                fall away.
I have used my solid ground
                  to make mountains.
Now I stand in a hole
               and can't see the tops
Of the mountains
                    that I helped build
With my shovel
                       and my ground.
But if they ever crumble
               I will be burried alive.