Early Sunday mornings,

When the world is asleep,

It’s dark outside, and ...

A frosty morning…

Wind howling,

Windows creaking, ...

With time,

Walls crack and crumble,

Freeing trapped souls. ...

Broken, frozen, left behind.

Some days feel like that,

Even when sunny outside. ...

Children play.

But as years pass,

It’s easy to forget. ...

What matters most,

Is not how a home looks,

But how it feels. ...

Another sunset,

Has quietly passed.

The birds have now ...

Unusual times,

Baring strange signs.

Yet not a surprise. ...

Swarming birds,

Scattered leaves,

Or snowflakes, ...

To survive, and

Help days pass,

We create rules. ...

Love comes in many ways.

Form matters not.

Only that it’s real, and ...

Time to climb.

Leave yesterday behind.

Sing, dance, and ...

Grey, wet days,

When feelings are raw,

Jagged edges sharp, ...

Some days we lose

Sight of our home.

That special place, ...

Everything fades,

As days pass by.

But it’s not sad. ...

Days when togetherness,

Feels cramped.

Happiness dissipates. ...

Sometimes we stand alone,

Surrounded,

With nowhere to go. ...

Jagged edges,

Will always melt,

With warmth. ...

Some days,

Mother nature paints

Strange pictures, ...

Sunrise above the clouds,

When Bach plays in silence,

Black coffee tastes sweet, ...