Sunlight Through Trees

Blue shut out, marred by perfect gold,
Shadows withholding green.
Glistening light meant to behold
A sky perfect and clean.

Shifts of darkness passing the ground
With a child below.
This young man smiling, moves abound
Drifting with light, the glow.

He, with his spot beneath the sun;
There he set finding rest,
And reflected upon what he’d won –
To sleep his thoughts, at best.

This gentile sir turned to the sky
To give his face a tan.
Splashes of light caused him to cry;
The sun came down in bands.

Then with each light of an ember,
He thought of excellence.
That which caused him to remember;
This made the difference.

The man looked at his shifting thoughts,
Changing with the stiff breeze.
And all the meaning that all it wrought,
Just like sunlight through trees.

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One Color to Choose

One evening I did dream
Of visions black and white;
My thoughts a silent stream –
All color lost in night.

This world empty and dark;
Void of any cheer.
My heart bent in an ark;
From this my thoughts came clear.

No substance in a shade just meant to be –
Blind of the difference;
Color I could not see.

Now I speak so sadly
Of this world with my thought;
Lose it I would gladly
To find a color lost.

One color do I miss;
For this my soul does cry.
I wish this shade to kiss;
Simply, the blue within your eyes.

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For You

Once I smiled and turned to you,
then felt a pull that had begun.
I remembered this to be true:
That your smile swallowed the sun.

But this dreary dream is wrought,
with emotions all sublime;
This moment of chance is caught,
as your hand looks perfect in mine.

Then I feel how swift are my thoughts,
With my tangles all pulled through.
And all the pain you have brought;
I think of something between everything and you.

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First Flower

First flower of the summer;
No easy bloom like spring.
Not an early comer;
But many smiles you bring.

Having waited for the hot air –
Slept through rain and windy days;
Into heat and hot glare,
Searching out the sun’s rays.

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Banker’s End

All the glitz and glamor is gone;
Back to the simple life they’re drawn.
Cursed are those of us who stay;
The better have walked away.

No longer from the masses be berated;
No longer called upon and hated.
Few turn back; fewer still stay.
Blessed are those who walked away.

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Eight O’clock Sunlight

With the year, daylight grows
And shows its signs of loyalty.
In the extra light fawns and does
Display their royalty.

But I being human
Find it harder to use my time;
And with the horizon looming,
I begin to hear night-birds chime.

Now, not knowing to rest or play,
I think that with you I should walk,
Which would then end a perfect day –
In the sunlight of eight o’clock.

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My Silver Lining

A thorn has its rose.
The clouds have the sun.
The dead live in heaven
Where tears and joy are one.

For you, my sweet, sweet flower,
Are my silver lining;
And you lift me high above
All sadness and all crying.

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