ALONE IN A CEMETERY

 

ALONE IN A CEMETERY

 

The wind whispers.

The trees sway.

Air hisses through the leaves.

Shadows lurk between gravestones.

With long robes, they sweep toward me.

A statue looms in the distance.

A winged angel turns her cold face 

and faces me.

A wicked grin curves her mouth.

Her wings take flight.

And so do I.

AN INDIGO MIST

TO DREAM

 

 

 

When night comes softly
On feet as light as air,
I can see clearly
Of what I shouldn’t care.

Alone on this hilltop
With the embracing cold,
Boundaries cannot stop
Me from being so bold.

I want to look at the night,
Gaze out into the unknown,
Dare to dream of my flight,
And dream of where I have flown.

Secrets hidden in darkness,
Beneath a cloak of despair.
Shadows roaming in blackness,
A striking and deadly pair.

At night I can roam free
And sail forth on gossamer wings.
Be all that I can be
No matter what the dark night brings.

 

DARE TO DREAM

I want to look at the night,
Gaze out into the unknown.
Dare to dream of flight,
A dream of being unknown.

When night comes softly
On feet as light as air,
I can see more clearly
Of what I can dare.

Alone on this hilltop
With the embracing cold,
I will leap past boundaries
That I have created of my own.

Darkness hides all secrets
Beneath its cloak of despair.
Secrets that lie safe and secure
Under the cloak of my hair.

At night I can roam free
Without the hindrance of others.
I can leap over castle walls,
Past the slombering mothers.

Looking down at all below me,
Sleeping in their beds of down,
I can see how I am different
As my eyes sweep the town.

ALONE IN A CEMETERY

cemetery shadows

ALONE IN A CEMETERY

The mist paints a grey.

Hissing winds sound fey.

The trees sway in tune

Under the blue moon.

With long robes, they sweep toward me.

Darker shadows they cannot be.

A statue looms in the distance.

I cannot offer resistance.

An angel turns her face to me.

A wicked grin for all to see.

Her white wings spread wide.

Time for me to hide.

A PICTURE COMES TO LIFE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Please follow me
Through the colors.
Past shimmering glass
And stacks of crayons.
The blue glass mirrors
Puffy cotton balls.
Scraggly arms reach high
to the ball of fire.

Can you hear the drums?
Flight of winged creatures.
Soaring high above,
too close to the fire.

Come closer and see
What my minds has wrought.
A scene near and dear.
To my thoughts and dreams.