the red rose

Here. For you. The red rose.

Not as pretty as you. But it will do. I guess.

To say. I love you.

guitar string broken

guitar string broken

that beautiful song lacking

A lost note in love

Lullaby

Tweet tweet my birdie, tweet

Sweet sweet my birdie, sweet

 

When your heart does beat

For the love you meet

Give her your golden seat

She’ll be at your feet

 

Tweet tweet my birdie, tweet

Sweet sweet my birdie, sweet

 

Night night birdie.

The mold

‘That girl over there… you see her?’

‘Yeah, what about her?’

‘They broke the mold after making her.’

‘Yeah, I see what you mean. But you know what I think, I think a mold is broken every time a woman is made?’

‘Yeah, true.’

‘How about us, you think we each had our own mold?’

‘Nah,  I think they kept using the same old one over and over again’

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Women.

Women. They don’t do war. They do love.

 And they’re pretty good at it.

‘Papa, what can I be when I grow up?’

‘Papa, what can I be when I grow up?’

‘Anything you want, my son. But please do not be a preacher, or a lawyer, or a politician.’

‘Why Papa?’

‘Because I don’t want you to think you’re better than others, and I don’t want you to lie, and I don’t want you to have enemies.’

‘So you don’t like preachers, or lawyers, or politicians.’

‘I like them,  I just think they talk too much.’

‘So what can I be?’

‘You can be a creator and you will help people with your work. You can be a teacher and you will teach people something new. You can be an artist and you will make people happy with your art.’

‘So creators and teachers and artists are better than preachers, and lawyers and politicians?’

‘No, I didn’t say they’re better. But their work is more helpful, and they talk less.’

‘Papa, I’m confused.’

‘Ok, just remember this.  Work, not words, keeps life going.’

meet you halfway

That thing you want,

walk towards it, and it will meet you half way.

when you read something

You know when you read something and you get a lump in your throat or your eyes get teary; well behind that piece is a writer that cried his soul out for you in words.

when she left us

 It was a cold, cold day when she left us, she took all the light with her, she took all the music with her, she took all the laughter with her,  and we were left cold on that cold, cold day she left us.

It was a cold, cold day when she left us, we had to save our drowned hearts, we had to swim against the pressing waters, we had to pull our drenched bodies out, and we remained gasping for breath on that cold, cold day she left us.

It was a cold, cold day when she left us, we looked for her in our hearts, we looked for her in our dreams, we looked for her in our souls.  And we found her there, and there, and there.

And that is where she now lives – in us, always, forever.

He does it with a smile.

He does it with a smile,

It’s just easier that way, smiling through the race,

It makes the water warmer, it makes the track smoother, it makes his legs stronger

And when he is done, he smiles.

My brother smiling proudly after completing his first triathlon