Your Interests About

Trapped within, held without,
Love for one another,
Don't you know? Can't you see,
He will be your brother?

Black, yellow, brown or white,
Mixed among all others,
Loving you, loving me,
They are all our brothers.

Sons and daughters, everyone,
Offspring, of all mothers,
You can be, what you will be,
They are all our brothers.
When we have love and trust
And respect, for each other,
I will say to you my friend,
Yes, I am your brother.

Gone, forever, from our sight,
Gone, to be no more.
Long remember those,
Who were here before.
Be proud to know,
They did not die in vain.
We are here, because
They cared, to give their lives
For those, yet unborn,
For those, yet unknown.
There are those, who will take a dream
And build, for a brighter morrow,
Have faith for there are those,
Among us, who will carry forward,
That which we believe in
And that we work for.

The cradle of love, awaits you,
As it does for every man.
It is comfort, mixed with passion
And where all life, began.
Let me whisper all the sweetness
That your ears can stand to hear,
And I will crawl into your cradle
To allow our passion to be here.

Slow and lovely, love
Comes from afar.
Chasing the moonbeam,
Or the twinkling star.
The flight of a bird
With soft muffled wing,
A beauty of flowers,
With the coming of spring.
A spider's fresh web,
All glistened with dew,
Are just a few reasons
Of why I love you.

Like the fragile, ice of winter,
As the Sun heats up the day.
Like the moistness of a dew drop,
That evaporates away,
Into nothing,
So are the loves of summer,
Short lived.

I remember you,
From years gone by;
I see you now;
and cannot lie,
You are more beautiful,
Than even I,
Would have dreamt.
Your approach to life,
Seems to waiver not.
My spirits soar and rise
When I see the
Bluest eyes.

I wish for you, a special place,
Of happiness,
Where trouble will not be
Welcome.

Please don't leave me,
Stay for the day.
You know that I love you,
So don't turn away.
Why must it always,
End in this way?
Why do I have to
Beg you to stay?

Softly, blows the breezes,
Coming from the sea,
Bringing breaths of
Freshness.
Hear the seagulls,
Calling
And their shrilling plea,
While soaring,
Ever graceful,
In the twirling,
Swirling breeze.

It must be nice to have talent.
To write, without searching for a word
Or sing, not knowing music
And care about what is heard.
It must be nice, to be witty,
To speak, without notice,
Saying words that capture moments,
As they happen.
That would be nice.

March remembers
The coming of Spring,
While changes of weather,
Occur every day,
As coldness from Winter,
Is warmed by the sun
And rain drizzles down,
From ponderous clouds.

Today's pleasant
Moments are the
Fond memories of
Yesterday, that we
Recall tomorrow.
Hold them dearly,
For they can be
Elusive and escape,
Forever.