TO my Valentine!
๐
You left long ago
I miss your smile The way you
laughed Your tight embrace
I can no longer See your face
You seem so faraway
Trying to love you is like
A plant without sun
A bulb planted upside down
Seeking ground
A river without rain
What came first?
A tree or a seed
The ocean or waterThe moon or stars
A bird or its songFROM The very beginning you
Are loved in my heart FOREVER! ๐งก
Snow Moon
Arrives February 12th, 2025๐

LAST night a lamp within
the sky
a moon of silvery whitewith her numbered hands
the hour strikes just in timeUPON the earth below
snowflakes fall upon the ice
THE stars sing and smile
a magical wonderland before
their eyes
IN just a day or two our
‘Snow Moon’
will bring a lovely Valentine
for you!๐
๐ โฃ ๐
__
LOVE _ is like a chapter
in the garden of life
AN _ hour glass of
time quickly passing
CHASING _ daisies ๐ผ and
rainbows ๐ quickly fading
as a child I sought her
BUT _ LOVE _ found me
when I for her stopped
searching!
๐๐ ๐

WHEN does a poem become a
poem?
A thought sprinkled in the
mind
or words written on paper?
Until I share my story –
expressing my grief . . .
Please do not take away my pen
and ink
For each word I write until
my last, from the ink well of
tears I will write of
my past . . .
Poetry truly is a bridge
between myself and the
rest of myself!
๐น ๐น
February 7th, 2025 ~ ‘Rose Day’
First day of Valentine’s Week
IN my heart I have prepared
a place, nurtured and watered
with tears of love
providing a perfect spot
for my bleeding rose
Bruised and Torn
Though the enemy had come in
and stolen my son, I have the
hope my dear rose will bloom
again! ๐น
Book of Job
whispers of God . . .
๐ ๐ ๐

WHEN does a poem become a
poem?
A thought sprinkled in the
mind
or words written on paper?
Until I share my story –
expressing my grief . . .
Please do not take away my pen
and ink
For each word I write until
my last, from the ink well of
tears I will write of
my past . . .
Poetry truly is a bridge
between myself and the
rest of myself!
the month of love ๐๐งก
February 2025
I remembered how
glad I was when January
had come and gone
with her winds and
blustery snow
Bridging the scan
between
December’s gloom and
February’s
early daffodils
May I never forget January
Bringing love and h๐ope of
spring to come! ๐
Ode to the egg?

Which came first has long
been questioned and many
have debated
But one thing is certain
the embryo of the egg has
much potential for
reproduction
Until it is cooked, boiled,
scrambled or fried
Then it has died!
The question remains
how can we carry on without
that which offers both?
The replicate and delectable Egg!



