Jen.

I have this friend called Jen,
Shes kind and sweet and true,
Our time we like to spend,
Stuck like glue us two,
Her heart is ever giving,
Eyes sparkle full of glee,
We do everything together,
My best friend Jen and me.

We like to meet for coffee,
And ponder on life's wonders,
While both our lives not easy,
Had our fair share of blunders,
As one talks their worries,
The other listens tenderly,
We do everything together,
My best friend Jen and me.

She thinks as we get older,
Our lives may drift apart,
For this she shouldn't worry,
As shes always in my heart.

Where one there is the other,
It's surely plain to see,
I love her like a sister,
My best friend Jen and me ♥

The chrysalis.

Bask in the light
That beams from your soul
Yearning, ever learning
Discovery
That is the self.

Enjoy the luster that becomes apparent
As you awaken the spirit
That lays dormant
Within.

The very essence of you
Captured in a momentary glimpse
A mirror image
That is oh so pleasing to the eye.

As your wings unfold
Shedding the old
discard the tired skin
Eager to taste life again.

 

 Love....

Love holds passions hand,
Excitement walks with tenderness,
Honesty lays itself down with truth,
And friendship skips playfully along with togetherness,
Joy and elation hold each other close,
As the peaceful moon glistens on a sea of calmness.

The art of being me.

No one can do me
Like i can
I am master of my craft
Independent woman
Working from morning
Till last thing at night
Only stopping to rest
When i turn out the light
My precious children i carried
In my warm giving womb
Now i watch their sweet sleeping faces
Under light of the moon.

I'm a lover, a fighter
A joker , a queen
The days i needed strength
On no one did i lean
There are lines on my face
When i laugh
When i frown
No trial yet have i met
Nothing can keep me down.

Silver spoon
As a child
Was not placed
In my mouth
Sussed my east from my west
And my north from my south
I and mine we get by
Though not at all comfortably
But on that which i thrive
The art of being me.

 

  Dream weaver.

Time seems to falter in it's place
Hours and minutes have given up the chase
Rivers of liquid diamond cascade upon the shores
Many a path to take , and a lifetime's worth to explore

I reach the precipice of what I thought was real
I have gone past my own limitations of anything surreal
As I hear my name from beyond the sky
I feel as though it must be a dream , but I wonder to why
I hear my name so clearly as though they were near
Then i realize I have awoken from my dream it appears ....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kntzQiaFzOQ&ob=av2n

Sometimes it hard to understand how pictures never change, but the people in them do. How your best friend can become your worst enemy.... or how strange it is when your worst enemy becomes your best friend. How forever can turn into a few short months that you would do almost anything to get back. How we can let go of things, that we once said we could never live without. How even though you know something is best for you it hurts just the same. How some people who once wanted to spend every second with you, think a few minutes of their time is too much to spare... and its oh so sad that some can erase you from their lives, just because its easier than working things out. Life is too short to be angry, to hold grudges, to worry about what may not even happen. Love the people who want you in their lives, let go of the ones who don't. You only get one shot at it. Remember.... life is a journey, not a destination. be true to who you are...

It's not too late... the angel said.
Even though the world's a mess...
Even though you're not as young...
Even though you've made mistakes and have been afraid
It's not too late...
And then I saw the world through the angels' eyes...
I saw the colors I could paint
The bridges I could build
The lives that I could touch
The dreams that could still come true
And it became very clear to me...
That it's not too late.

TOMORROW.

Tomorrow I will wear
A brighter smile
And a song in my heart
In the hope that he notices
I've gone out on a limb
For him...
I'll look at his hair
Imagining how if feels
Conjuring my spell
I'm lost in him
And he knows nothing of me
I am one of many...
The only difference
Between me and them
They could not love him
Like i could
Like i would
If i just had half a chance
To hold his gaze
For just a little while
He could see
The light in my eyes
The smile on my lips
And the song in my heart
Is for him... ♥

Old Man.

Nets of yellow
Skin so grey
He wont venture out
No not today....

In the summer
When arms are bare
The heartless folk they point and stare
'Look at him' they conspire
Like witches huddled round a fire
Unknown his scars
of which they gaze
he saved a family in a blaze.

The echos of his lonely footsteps
The kids spill out from school
'Get out the way old fool'
Rushing past
Not having a clue
The shrapnel he carries in his leg
A scar for the likes of you.

On his suit 4 medals
Proudly displayed
From his time on the front line
A hero of him
This country made
Yet so quick to accuse him
Of loosing his mind.

A winters evening
To church for a prayer
Lights a candle
sits quietly there
'Old mans got nowhere to go'
They don't see the reason
The carnation in his button hole
Hes not sitting there alone
His wife he visits in gods home.

Time slips like sand
Through his fingers
Still the memory lingers
Like a whisper he can no longer hear
As he fades away
Like the arms of his favorite chair.

One day the wind will call his name
And he will be young again
Free from the shell of an old man.

s. wilson 06.05.12