Poet. Writer. Photographer.
Pre-dawn calls,beckons me to comeoutdoors to witnessthe ceremony of Sunin its ritualistic return,for each genesis of day,I insist in being presentfor the glorious display;birdsong liftsas a gift, and Iturn skywardsmy soul-window eyes,and inside me,all falls stillas the silhouette-on-pastel cloudsdrift and swirl,and Time itselfforgets to propelthe earthin those momentsso angelically tranquil. https://videopress.com/v/QnApiufP?preloadContent=metadata
Just another Monday morning getting out of the car at work, just another opportunity to fine-tune my attitude at the week's start, to remember how every sparkle in the eyes of my masked face can make a world of a difference when it graces someone's day. The lights above the stadium's remind me of the … Continue reading Just Another Monday Morning
Trackless sandreset for me,endless horizonthe non-boundary:first carefree stepsI take into my own hands,reshaping my destinyas I head for Dream Landwide awake.I will makeit reality.
Waves of yesterdays evidenced in footprints not yet erased lose their shadows in the gradual light of another day, and I add to them on my way to where the sand shows no trace of existence. I am one of the few witnesses. I patiently wait and wait for sun to make his … Continue reading Witness
Golden beams lovingly reach through the leaves and beckon me to hop on; so far away is the day star yet so personal, this dawn to find me here among the birds before the day's bustle begins, as I walk to pacify the restlessness within. Soon the light will flood the day, cast down over … Continue reading Golden Beams
Golden sunbeam finds me between the leaves; I cannot hide from nature's loving reach. Each new day offers new ways for sleepy dreams to be rejuvenated and for goals to be reached, for the only thing between is belief, and will to go after each, for guaranteed after every winter like spring, the potential in … Continue reading The Green
The glow comes, indeed, from love, though she still walks alone; the spring in her step is from a lighter load, for she finally walks alone, free from the voices that for so long falsely shouted above her own. Poem and image ©LauraDenise
