Green-eyed Jamie,
blond at three
runs to climb
most every tree,
beneath each rock
finds mystery
held up high
for all to see.

Laughing, playing,
wind and free,
the gentleman-rides
upon my knee
fills his mind with
train robbery,

Brown-eyed Sarah
loves to play
with ponies and
faeries everyday,
such dainty flowers,
picked in May,
she carefully places
in pots of clay.

Muses that she
would like to stay
within the words
that fly away
into musical winds
of yesterday,
a poet, a painter
some might say.

Black-eyed Gareth,
you should know,
loves the days of
naked skies on
hills of snow,
where sleepy angel
wings do flow.

On purpled mornings
off he’d go
bundled up tight
from head to toe,
into a flurried,
white, lacy show
though bitter winds
do whip and blow.

Grey-eyed Samuel,
lil’ puddin’ pie,
rolls in red leaves
as they fly,
swirling, dancing,
slicing sky
a touch of mischief
in his eye.

Giggles quietly,
a wee bit shy,
he’s a happy
pun’kin guy,
as shedding trees
in breezes sigh,
so does he when
winter is nigh.

– Previously published August 1994 in: Coming to the Crossroads

hiking to the springs

Five years later

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s