There was a little snail sitting on a hill
Gazing at the world below her
Such gratitude she felt
At the beauty she could see
She thought nothing could take her off kilter
Until across the shore she saw
Another snail on fire
She panicked and thought to help him
Til she noticed the matches he had in his hand
So stopped did her panic within
How beautifully bright he burned
With all of his despair
His light rivalled the sun
Charred to a crisp
His yelling turned to a whisper
That snail was cooked well done.
Tag: Warmth
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Fifty six days
Exactly eight weeks
But don’t countdown
Forget
Focus on the healing
Focus on the peace
But my love is impossible to forget
Where is my text?
Where is my kiss?
Where is my warm embrace?
Forget for now
And focus on the power
Of light, healing and space
Breathe deep, it’s all ok
It’s all ok, it is
Focus on your growth
Your child, your boats
I know it feels like your drowning now
But stay strong
You will begin to float
Know she has your back
Focus on what you can control
To keep yourself on track
The time will pass
It always does
Make it all worthwhile
Whatever will be, will be, will be
Give yourself a smile
Surrender to the higher power -
Oh the smell from long ago
The waft warm and familiar
The early start a slave in part
In a world confused and in pain
Why do passing smells entice
More than if I was the chef
With my own hands creating
But my nose elating
From the aroma of the morning tube
Sin Agua Poetry Blog 