How hard,

To open up,

And let the world see, …

One can paint a story,

In many ways.

Dark and sad, …

Freedom day.

When I walked the road,

Clueless to where it led, …

Horse shoes and luck.

Somehow,

It’s what I recall. …

It’s time,

For you to bloom.

Live life, …

That,

Which is written,

I cannot read. …

Freshness,

Is now a state of mind,

And it can be seen, …

I too have shed,

Parts of me,

Along the way. …

To accept,

Give and thrive,

Wearing a smile, …

I went through life,

Obsessed with creating,

And leaving something behind. …

The will to overcome,

And thrive under stress,

May now seem displaced. …

Relics from the past,

That still work.

Rendering a beauty, …

Patiently gathered,

One by one,

Cleaned and now, …

Not everyone,

Can appreciate art.

It is a gift, …

Laying on the grass,

Tired,

Watching clouds drift by. ….

If the path,

Is to be seen,

The heart must listen, …

The magic of spring,

Is in the air.

A fresh breeze, …

Kind hearts,

Are often found,

In unexpected places, …

When the moment arrives,

To savor the past,

I need close my eyes, …

Sometimes what I see,

Is hard to understand.

Then one day, …