There are times,

When we don’t fit.

Trapped, standing out, ...

Grow,

But don’t cry.

Youth will disappear, ...

Whatever it is,

Do it well.

With passion, laughter, ...

Late winter days,

When the sun shines,

Yet iciness survives. ...

Colors come and go.

Shades of grey,

To be sure. ...

With imagination, courage,

A sense of humor,

Anyone can feel like a star, ...

Cut,

Neatly stacked,

Awaiting tomorrow’s plight. ...

Beekeepers need bees.

And once in a while,

Bees need beekeepers. ...

Early morning,

But still dark.

Feels lonely and cold ...

Some smile,

Others frown,

Perhaps perplexed, ...

Today’s forest is cold.

Filled with shadows,

But without traces, ...

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, ...