Morning Glories bloom beyond the sill.
And ivy wraps the quince tree still.
On a beautiful dew-drop day.
The majestic fir just beyond reach,
harboring echoes of a crow’s screach.
All in an easy morning way.
Mother’s clothes-line bare,
dropping dew just there,
and the dandelions stare – into the sky.
A forbidden road beyond the drive,
Still not able to cross alive,
holding my sister’s hand
Another world, a different place
different trees and flowers of lace
In a lovely, unknown land.
Soon I crossed the road alone
roaming from home to home
I’ve seen the things of life – and wonder why
Long to live again.
If Heaven be
Please let me see
the simple plan of this simple man.
For in my sky
when I die
I hope to be
On the Morning Glory side.
One death is a tragedy; one million is a statistic.