natyismyhero

The scene is thus. I am sitting in a rock lined pool. Dark green and brown moss, dead and soaked, cling fiercely to the outcroppings. Behind me, a steady bubble of water burbles and sighs, the only sound in my morning reverie. On my left, huge drifts of snow loom over me, leading further up the embankment to a line of ancient spruce framed by steel sky. On my right, in the mere, a gently decreasing slope sends water tinkling over smooth slate. The small stream opens up to a series of low pools, steam issuing from warmer spots of water. There is marsh ground about, but it is deeply covered with soft round snow. Low hummocks give way to spars

These old blue jeans, frayed from innumerable rips. Given shape with hours of careful scissor snips. Threaded maps on calves and knees, Vast continents isolated in lonely denim seas. For hours I've navigated from hip to toe Every inch of adventure the fabric shows Til all my fingertips can find, A hem, an end, charted territory left behind. Not daring to move, I've stood upon that brink, Feeling how my fingers slowly try to sink Beyond the cloth, into the dark, down to the world beneath To see what warm soft treasures I'm longing to bequeath. But still my fingers will remain, caressing the rips and seams. And travel through the w

I have a small pink elephant He is my imagination. And when I'm stuck for words and rhymes He is my inspiration. In a moment's pause, pen poised in hand Me hesitant, and uninspired, One look at my clever lad And the spark is soon refired! He jangles sweetly in my mind Harmonious, mischievous, endearing. And ink splatters across the empty page As I feel new verses nearing. He follows me on chiming feet As soft as snowflakes falling. His trumpeting call is bright and gay, Like triumphant angels calling. He bids me go and seize the day, To refuse to let life jade me. And if I need a moment's muse, I can use the joy he gave me.