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What other weather will you throw this way?
We've had rain, hail and some sleet
That has whitened many a street.
The poor flowers, that survived the snow
And cold that we had for weeks,
When it is just the Sun, that peeks
Out from these black, stormy clouds,
That has brought the rain, down like shrouds.
The garden has taken more than it's share,
While rabbit's munching, the plant tops there,
The flowers that bloomed a year ago
Are now smaller than those that grow,
Near the suburban path, a sidewalk is
The way to see that which grows,
Perhaps even a strong minded Rose.

Are you a dream?
Are you real?
I can see you,
But can not feel,
The softness of a cheek,
Or wetness of a tear.
When I awake
You disappear.
Where are you.
My elusive one?
Is it an omen
Of what's to come?

He stood before me and shook his head.
An old relic that I thought was dead.
Why are you here, I asked of he?
Are you bringing all your hypocrisy?
Is it you that's wrong, or is it me?

The Sun, Stars, Sky and Moon, a muse
Are all in your power to peruse.
Your thoughts of those days gone by
And ask not the question, as to why.
The choices made, were not all the best,
But were made with loves happiness.

Fare thee well my beauty.
Fare thee well, from me.
By the morrow, I'll be gone
Far across this vast Sea.
Weep not for me my darling,
For I am now a song,
Of lonely, sadness, without remorse
And I must move along.

The heart that beats within my chest
Keeps on beating, no matter the test,
As the love I've known for many a year,
Slowly, oh so slowly, begins to disappear.
My love for her is strong.
Her love for me is not,
As her memory can no longer
Recall. I know my life is wrought,
With this terrible loss of love,
No matter the indifference from above.

Photo credit: Mike Eliason, public information officer for the Santa Barbara County Fire Department,

Who am I to say
On this very grey day,
About the lives of another.
I am sure I can opine,
Point of views to you,
About your loss in life,
As both a wife and a mother.

The Rhododendron leaves are curled tight
To prevent damage, from Frost's bite.
The plant, shrunken from the cold,
Has an ugliness, in my sight
Not the beauty that I did behold.
Warmer weather is what we need,
With some rain and more plant feed.