My first poem since October…I hope I haven’t lost my touch, or in a perfect world, a break from poetry may have fueled my love of it! In the end, the reader is the judge…



Glow’ng lights of a dying day

Gifted sight to locked eyes,

Sweet silence in her secret realm;

A place for her alone to dwell.

A world of peace to her displayed,

Her mystic world from them will hide.


The tree upon the hill: It sings

Ballads of lights from green to blue,

Leaves of folded glass are formed

And drift among the calm of storms.

Their song invites her to step in

A welcome home; gift of the muse.