Standing On The Seashore

Standing on the seashore,

Grains of sand,

Between the toes,

Looking at the horizon,

Growing old,

Grains washed away,

By the tides everyday,

Morning glory,

A warming sun,

Another story,

Has just begun,

At the days end,

The moon arrives,

Size dictated by the tides,

The stars do shine,

To guide the way,

The seasons come,

The season go,

Everyday growing old,

Until that day, 

When those foot prints,

Get washed away......

 

As Cold as Stone

As cold as stone,

Alone,

Carved and chiselled,

Weathered by the storms,

No blood flows,

But the scars are there,

From the impact,

Of the words,

Opinions,

Views,

In a place of solitude,

Sanctuary,

This place will do,

To stand guard,

A sentry to a heart,

Protector to a soul,

  

That Broken Family Tree

Branches torn from the tree,

Gone on the path of their destiny ,

The trunk remains on its own,

Years are shown by the rings that grow,

Through the seasons the tree does stand,

Strong after weathering the storm,

The bark is scarred where the branches broke,

A memory of what was lost,

In summer time the tree does bloom,

With leaves of green,

How they shine,

Attracting birds with its grace,

A loyal and trusted resting place,

In autumns fall,

Some leaves do shed,

Like falling tears,

The tree lay bare,

An image of that lonesome tree,

Magnificent in its beauty 

The Ancient English Oak it truly be,

The Shadow

A shadow clinging to a soul,

Whispering I will not let go,

Wherever you go I will follow,

You are not alone,

A companion during the day,

An invisible friend in the dead of the night,

Hidden and out of sight,

Never fear I will be there always by your side,

To Jump into the Fire

A glowing light,

Burning bright,

That beacon seen in the night,

An internal glow,

A warming flame drawing in,

Attracted by the light,

That passionate heat drawing the weak,

Burning those that get to close,

That attraction,

A burning desire,

To jump into the fire, 

Beautiful In Their Grace

Every flower blooms unique,

Individual petals like a finger print,

Different shades and hues,

Some to lure you,

Beautiful in their grace,

Growing in different places,

Some growing small,

Others growing tall,

A scent carried on a breeze,

To tempt the birds and the bees,

An aroma to fill the air,

To let them know you are there,

Counting Seconds in the Past

 Time on the wrist,

 Controlled by hands,

 One going fast,

 Counting seconds in the past,

 That present second short to last,

 A new memory that is sure to last,

To stay with you,

Through the nights and the days,

A special second to last all the way,

A snap shot of a place,

That face,

That time when things were great,

Hands go forward as we know,

We age as we grow,

Forward at a second at a time,

From the day you are born,

To the day that you die,