My world is with you as you hold my hand Kiss my brow, and run in the sand Leave a fresh coin under my pillow Tell me a story so I will swallow My peas and my porridge and my fish and my milk Your hair all around me – a curtain of silk.
Tell me Mama, will you always be there To tuck me to sleep with kisses and care To make me a dress with raindrops and love To sing me a song of the soft feathered dove Tell me tales of wondrous far away lands Make me dolls of cotton with your clever hands.
Take me with you Ma wherever you go You match your quick footsteps to my pace so slow As I watch sun dried leaves spin in the breeze Wander off the stone path into the trees When I grow to be a woman like you We will live in this cottage just us two.
On wrong side of truth a prophecy burns. A conflict of your own choosing when more was less. Do you need some divine intervention in resolving human questions? The innocence of a sunflower will not blame the moon for dark
John Walker served his country in WWII It was something he felt obligated to do. In combat he risked his life Even while he was facing strife He wrote his family back at home While he was on another roam
Your genome was climbing down. I hate to count the steps. Feathers hurt sometimes after the end of flying. How far was the moment of dust? You were still swimming in saline water. A collective guilt will pay the price.
Assume for one minute that the world was healed again,strong, though creeping veins and ventricles, unclogged their own blockages and once again it’s you who can sing and live again presume you are well again,and again ,celebrating the night and