Raindrops of reflection
Within a crystal pool
Created by the beauty
Of heaven’s sweetest jewel
Falling in a pattern
Utterly divine
Clinging to the petals
Quenching on the vine
Softness of its beauty
For all our eyes to see
Remarkable reflection
Of nature’s harmony
Glowing with such sparkle
That seems to beckon me
Touch of crystal beading
Sparkling beautifully
Glory in this vision
Of soft and misty rain
Comes from nature’s glory
With sparkles that remain.
A mouse – a mouse – a little, white mouse,
Is lost somewhere within this house,
The cat is sad; she feels so bad,
Yet, she’s the one that lost this mouse.
Bathed in catnip, fuzzy-furred,
Soft and pinky-white,
A present wrapped in red and gold,
A true, feline delight.
The cat enamored with this toy,
Carried it around the room,
Cats do smile; I saw her,
Her cat-world was in bloom.
She tossed the mouse into the air,
And caught it coming down,
A hundred times she did this,
Her joy knew no bounds.
Nothing there is that’s so much fun,
As watching a cat at play,
Uninhibited and free,
Spontaneous and gay.
I felt a special joy, too,
As I watched my little friend,
Then a moment of distraction came,
Bringing fun time to an end.
The cat now sitting quietly,
The mouse gone – disappeared,
I said, “Honey, where’s your mouse?”
She looked blank and scratched her ear.
I searched the entire place,
On hands and knees, down on the floor,
I even got a flashlight out,
The cat yawned; she was bored.
I was worn out; I was a wreck,
But I don’t think she cared,
She merely went to sleep,
On the cushion in the chair.
“You idiot!” I said to me,
As I stood with hands on hips,
Where could that little mouse have gone?
Surely not between her lips.
I picked her up and looked at her,
We met ‘eye to eye.’
“DID YOU EAT THAT MOUSE?” I asked.
She made no effort to reply.
Mouses come and mouses go,
And all mouses are not edible,
Explain that to a little cat,
If you can make it credible.
Did I ever find her mouse?
Nope. I never did,
Whatever happened to it,
It got itself well-hid.
I’ve also come to the conclusion,
She doesn’t give a whit,
But when cleaning out her litter box,
I keep wondering, “Is that it?”
I am a tiny angel …
I’m smaller than your thumb;
I live in people’s pockets,
That’s where I have my fun.
I don’t suppose you’ve seen me,
I’m too tiny to detect;
Though I’m with you all the time,
I doubt we’ve ever met.
Before I was an Angel …
I was a fairy in a flower;
God, Himself, hand-picked me,
And gave me Angel power.
Now God has many Angels
That He trains in Angel pools;
We become His eyes, and ears, and hands …
We become His special tools.
And because God is so busy,
With way too much to do;
He said that my assignment
Was to keep close watch on you.
Then He tucked me in your pocket,
Blessing you with Angel care;
Saying I must never leave you,
And I vowed to stay right there!
-o-o-
God’s Speed, My Angel”
Among the many blessings,
That God has sent my way …
Was a tiny pocket Angel,
That fluttered in one day.
God placed her in a pocket,
She seemed quite happy there;
She did her job of guarding,
And providing Angel care.
I loved that tiny Angel,
But soon word reached my ears …
She had been seen in Switzerland,
And China and Algiers.
I wondered if she’d flown away,
So I took another look …
And there she was, where she belonged,
Right in her pocket nook.
How could it be that she was seen
In a strange and foreign land …
Yet still be in her pocket home?
I did not understand.
My guess is God made more than one,
He might have made a pair;
When a pocket picker picked up one,
He left the other there.
Blessings on you, pocket picker …
Whoever you may be;
You badly need an Angel,
Maybe … two or three!
And God’s Speed to you, my Angel,
No matter where you are;
I’m glad God made you shareable,
With all souls … near and far!
One cannot be too careful,
When one gives one’s heart away,
My heart’s been crushed and broken,
Many times in many ways.
First I gave it to a kid at school,
Who made it flutter and beat fast,
An athlete … who was a cheat,
And had a girl in every class.
Next, I chose a college man,
Same story … only worse,
He would not go out with me,
Unless I brought my purse.
Then I fell for a nice, young man,
That I soon kicked out the door,
When I found out he lived at home,
And adored his mother more.
And then there was an oilman,
I thought, for sure, he was the one.
But with all his ex’s down in Texas,
He was a real, two-timing bum.
I can’t forget a sailor I met,
Who had a gal in every port,
But he’d not give up a one for me,
So our relationship was short.
Next, I almost wed a broker,
Who was into stocks and bonds,
Thank goodness I wised up to him,
Before my capital was gone.
It’s not that I am bitter,
Though I’ve been burned so many times,
I feel for everyone there’s someone,
But I wonder, “Where is mine?”
I’ve searched this whole world over,
For my very own true love,
I have begged and prayed and pleaded,
With the good Lord up above.
But no matter where I looked,
Or how very hard I tried,
The good guys were already wed,
Or had already died,
One night, as I despaired my plight,
A solution came to me,
So bright and early the next day,
I went on a shopping spree.
First I bought a bright red sweater,
The warmest I could find,
And I bought a little pillow,
A soft and cushy kind.
Then I bought some colored balls,
And a bug-eyed, squeaky frog,
Next, I went down to the pound,
And found a little dog.
His eyes lit up when he saw me,
He barked a bit and whined,
He wagged his tail, and I could tell,
His doggy heart was mine.
Loyal, trustworthy, faithful,
Honest and true to the core,
I gave him my heart that day,
And true love was my reward.
THE DECORATOR
The Decorator came last night,
With buckets of snow white paint,
With care, She spread it everywhere,
Exhibiting no restraint.
While people slept, Her brushes swept
The world to which they would awake,
With skill and speed, She did Her deed,
Her job all done by day-break.
A simple scene, pristine and clean,
At dawn’s first early light,
Not any print, or mark, or blemish,
Disturbed this awesome sight.
A virgin snow upon the ground,
Sparkling in the morning sun,
Dazzling diamonds everywhere,
How rich had earth become.
A bit of red flew overhead,
A ruby cardinal on the wing,
It sought a branch on which to perch,
And lift its tiny head to sing.
Fine crystal, bead-like lavalieres,
Hung down from hand-picked trees,
Making rainbows where they dangled,
In the sun and winter’s breeze.
A land bejeweled by the Lady’s hand,
So real to mind and eye,
But should men snatch those lovely gems,
They’d surely melt and die.
Sculptured grandeur in the morning,
Which might dissolve by afternoon,
Perhaps, by night, just dampened spots,
How sad; all could be gone so soon.
That is, until the next snowfall,
When the Decorator comes once more,
And paints the whole world white again,
More lovely than before.
From my sparkling kitchen window,
When the morning light was right,
I could see the little fellow,
And I would ponder on his plight.
He hung upon a slender thread,
Which each day grew a bit,
At least, it seemed it did to me,
Unless my eyes were playing tricks.
I believed my little spider
Had big plans on his mind,
Like trying to reach another limb,
On his tiny thread, so fine.
Every morning, as he labored,
I urged my little guy along,
“Go,” I’d whisper through the window,
“Just keep on keepin’ on!”
I couldn’t help but wonder why
Spiders do what spiders do,
What is their motivation?
I didn’t have a clue.
Why spend one’s life just hanging on?
How dull that sounds to me,
Though I s’pose it could be fun,
If one were swinging from a tree.
But each morning there I was
At the window … till it seemed
It had become a habit,
Part of my regular routine.
Then one day, when I looked out,
There appeared before my eyes,
Another dangling spider,
Well … imagine my surprise.
It was dancing on its own, fine line,
Quite close to my wee friend,
Wow! A drama in the making!
Who could predict its end?
I watched in utter fascination,
As each day nearer came their threads,
Probably my imagination,
But I thought I saw their bobbing heads.
So, now I had two spiders,
With which to start my day,
“Aha,” I thought, “I’ll tell no one,
Lest they come take me away.”
But every single morning,
When I was out of bed and up,
I’d rush out to the kitchen,
And grab my coffee cup.
I’d sip my coffee at the window,
While staring through the pane,
Then I’d try to gauge the distance,
That over night each one had gained.
It was minuscule, of course,
Often times I could not judge,
Sometimes they seemed in limbo,
And had not even budged.
One day their lines became entangled,
And closer, closer came the pair,
How sweet, I thought, they’ll help each other,
And show how much they care.
I wondered what would happen next,
As the two threads became as one,
I could not see where the first one stopped,
Nor where the second had begun.
Such funny, tiny creatures,
Swaying, playing in the wind,
Bouncing, pouncing, dancing, prancing,
Of course, I had to grin.
They enjoyed one another,
I could tell that from the start,
You know the feeling that you get
When something’s touched your heart.
I spent many mornings watching them,
As I drank my coffee down,
But then one day they’d disappeared,
Both of my spiders gone!
I looked in vain; they were nowhere,
And no slender, silver threads,
I felt horror mixed with sorrow,
Were my tiny spiders dead?
In great distress, I hastily dressed,
And raced outside my kitchen door,
Perhaps a closer look would find
What I was looking for.
I found the limb where they had been,
And I saw some rocks below,
Then with a stick, I pushed and poked
Until the rocks began to roll.
And beneath some shiny, tiny stones,
I found the answer to my quest,
For there were my two spiders,
In a cozy, spider nest.
More than a dozen baby spiders,
Were crawling round and round,
Shocked and startled, I jumped back,
Though I admit I was spellbound.
Creepy, crawly creatures
Are not my cup of tea
And up close and personal,
In no way appeals to me.
But from a distance, I like to watch
Their funny little ways,
Amazed how Nature fashioned them,
To spend their spider days.
There were once two men, both seriously ill, in the same small room of a great hospital. Quite a small room, it had one window looking out on the world. One of the men, as part of his treatment, was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.
Every afternoon when the man next to the window was propped up for his hour, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside. The window apparently overlooked a park where there was a lovely lake.
Ducks and swans swam on the water and children came to throw them bread while they sailed their toy boats. Young lovers walked hand in hand beneath the grand old trees and there were flowers of every color of the rainbow. There were stretches of grass where softball games were being played. At the back, behind the fringe of trees, was a fine view of the city skyline.
The man on his back would listen to the other man describe all of this, enjoying every minute of it. He heard how a child nearly fell into the lake, and how beautiful the girls were in their summer dresses. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on his back would listen as he closed his eyes and imagined the picturesque scene.
Then one fine afternoon, the thought struck him, “Why should the man next to the window have all the pleasure of seeing what was going on? Why shouldn’t he get the chance? He felt ashamed, but the more he tried not to think like that, the worse he wanted a change. He’d do anything!
One night as he stared at the ceiling, the other man suddenly woke up, coughing and choking, his hands groping for the button that would bring the nurse running. But the man watched without moving … even when the sound of breathing stopped. In the morning, the nurse found the other man dead, and quietly took his body away.
As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be switched to the bed next to the window. So they moved him, tucked him in, and made him quite comfortable. The minute they left, he propped himself up on one elbow, painfully and laboriously, and took his first look at the world outside.
It faced a blank wall.
I believe in angels,
And I believe in fairies, too,
They’re not one and the same, you know,
They are distinctly two.
Angels are within the heart,
Fairies … in the mind,
Angels … always there to care,
Fairies … just sometimes.
Fairies like to tease and play,
They dance and entertain,
They tickle chins and noses,
Like bubbles in champagne.
Angels are more serious,
They do heavy-duty things,
Like easing fears and wiping tears,
And hugging with their wings.
Angels are assigned by God,
They very rarely show,
Fairies oft are seen in dreams,
And, at will, they come and go.
Fairies live in fantasies,
They are wee, tiny things,
They flit about erratically,
On dainty gossamer wings.
Angels, though, are very real,
They come in different sizes,
Large, medium, small, petite,
It’s hard to recognize them.
Fairies make all people smile,
Young and old alike,
To see one bathing in the dew,
Is a pure delight.
Angels, on the other hand,
May fill our eyes with tears;
We’re overwhelmed with gratitude,
They’ve watched over us for years.
When we’ve been saved from trouble,
It’s not coincidence,
God’s placed angels in our path,
To stand up in our defense.
Fairies offer fun and frolic,
Both to small folk and full-grown,
But when people’s lives are over,
Then angels take them home.
God’s angels and earth’s fairies,
I think are quite essential,
They surely are related,
For both are quintessential.
I’m issuing an ultimatum,
To all my aging, senior friends,
Your activities of late
Have simply got to end.
Feeling weak and getting sick,
I demand, at once, be ceased,
If you continue such behavior,
You could end up deceased.
You trip, you fall, you break some bones,
Your heart palpitates and flutters,
Your bones won’t heal, and you’ll feel ill,
And your legs may turn to butter.
If you keel over at the mall,
Nine-One-One, I’m sure, will come,
They’ll pound your chest their very best,
To keep you from turning numb.
Then they’ll rush you to Emergency,
Where they’ll pound on you some more,
If you don’t respond, I’m telling you
They’ll take you to the morgue.
It’s not a joke to have a stroke,
So that, too, has got to stop,
Though you don’t feel ill, please take those pills,
That will make your BP drop.
Enough, my friends, I say enough,
And I implore you to agree,
For if you go before I do,
Who will be left to grieve for me?
I’m just an old abandoned toy,
That you left alone and blue.
Forgotten in your toy box,
While you looked for something new.
I can’t forget when we first met,
Like kids so full of joy.
But when the novelty wore off,
I became an extra toy.
You left me in your toy box,
Along with others there.
You closed the lid, where we were hid,
Then looked for better fare.
There was no challenge anymore,
The game no longer new.
I lay forgotten in your box,
Just tossed aside by you.
While you were having fun with me,
I wish I could have known.
I was just a toy in your life,
And old toys get left alone.
The paint and glitter all wore off,
You said I was no fun.
You left me in your toy box,
This toy wouldn’t run.
Then, you threw away the key,
Along with it, my heart.
You didn’t want to play with me,
You broke me all apart.
I’m just an old abandoned toy,
That you left alone and blue.
Forgotten in your toy box,
While you looked for something new.
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