Sugar plum fairies dancing in glittery lights. Flickering little sprites with fresh green holly adorning silvery hair Circle ’round the Yule log flames Filling this silent night with music, oh so merry and bright as the scent of hot spiced cider warming the frosty air the Wassail cup passes with cheer So splendid a sight ...

As the sun began to bleed  At dusk and the birds Gathered for the evening chorus, I began to wonder if this was A dream.   Your hands were so small, Your eyes never got to see  Pinks and reds of dawn,  Let alone this sunset, or a Full moon.   I had waited so ...

What are your hands really for? What are a pair of hands true purpose? My hands are there to hold you at your weakest; to hold you at your strongest. Turn my palms into cups so that they catch the tears you shed.    My fingers will act as ties to keep you from going ...

Foliage drained of glucose And chlorophyll has run its course Blazing sunshine lights the hues chill in the air chases us indoors. Bright earth tones fade, days grow short the blue skies hark the approaching Harvest moon. October’s fading colors, harbingers of winter’s encroaching. Refusal to face the wintry ice, like living in a state ...

the end is near and yet we can see the line i wonder, do you hear? the whispers so fine softly the thickness coats the town fluffy and white in all its glory in the coldness we drown waiting for the ending of the story it’s supposed to be a special time of peace, quiet, ...