the season that love grows...
When is the season that love grows?
It is not spring
love is just being born
It is not summer
there are so many other things going on
love is blinded
It is not Autumn
for love is just opening its eyes
Love grows when all else is dieing,
when a blanket of cold envelopes the plains,
And small flakes of glistening silver falls from the skies
This is when love grows,
it grows now to keep the hope of life alive
For with out love there is no life
the fingers
Like fingers running through a gentle lovers hair,
are my fathers pink and orange fingers through the clouds
Like a freckle on the softest of skin
is the morning hawk in the horizon
Slowly and majestically rises his hand
so lovingly caressing the cheek of my mother
Giving my small portion of the world
his warmth and her eternal love
Love, do you believe...
Can you believe,
In something so magical
so pure?
In a power that can
give the weakest the strength of gods
and soften the hardest of men?
Do you believe
In something so real
without it everything else is worthless?
In a bond so strong it can pass
through years, decades, centuries, an eternity
and never wain but always gains
In a feeling so right
that you could never recover from the loss of it
In the truth and honesty of it
and in finding it finding yourself
In searching to the end of time for just a taste of it?
There is nothing
so pure and so true
as that of unwavering
never waining love.
None is as long and forsaken
as is the journey you take looking for it
But sweet and eternal
is the taste
If you just believe...
by
me

the cold
For the last couple of days it has been biting cold. But i don't mind, I love the cold and the crispness that comes with it. My skin may be freezing but my heart is warm. The smooth gray clouds against soft shell blue of the sky with the sun peeking through and sometimes bursting through. Its the time when you can see the esence of being on the air unlike any other day. If you listen closely you can hear the whispers of the enchanted ones like they were sitting on your shoulder. Its a clear cold day but i don't mind i like the cold.


Send Message
Add Friend
alana beautiful poem
04:36 PM CST