It would be okay,
I believe,
If you were to make a wish
and put it in your pocket.
It would be okay,
especially so,
if the wish was sweet.
For a wish made carefully
is often much sweeter
if forgotten
(in a pocket)
and found
somewhere along the drifting line
of life.
Somewhere lovely,
of course.
Somewhere really quite lovely,
I would think.
Good morning, sun.
And good morning to the girl
who sits quietly and smiles,
amused by it all.
I’d like to find the sunshine
beneath my pillow, when I wake.
And I will cup it in my hands,
and I will hold it close and whisper:
‘Shine, sweet little light.
Shine ever brightly,
might the pathway ahead
light and walk with me.
The Christmas spirit never dies.
The Christmas spirit is forever and always,
so why put it away?
Do we not become our best selves
whilst wrapped in the spirit of Christmas?
Me thinks we do.
And so it is
I ask again:
why do we put it away?
Why do we put
the love
away?
Somewhere in the clouds
is where you will find me.
Am I broken,
or am I just me?
Floating,
somewhere beyond the day.
Floating,
not quite flying away.
As humanity goes,
I am far from normal,
and yet I’d not trade a cloud
for a rock, and a chance to be
normal.
What is normal?
What is this broken world
asking me to be?
You are the beautiful breeze that knows you.
Take this life.
Make it your own.
If I hold your hand still,
if I paint your world bright,
if I sing you my songs
will you love,
will you love me?
If I answer your needs
with a need of my own,
If I paint your world bright,
If I sing you my songs
will you love,
will you love me
love?
It seems simple.
To live
as I am
always.
It seems simple.
To live.
Oh, but those who feel like the wind!
How lovely they are.
How very lovely.
You think you are one thing.
You are not one thing.
You are the entire ocean.
Take your time,
be every drop.
