I write based on heart. I love based on thought. I think based on truth.
What Song Do I Sing to Thee?
What song do I sing to thee? Thee who is so holy, thee who is so free. What chords do I swimmingly combine? So that you call yourself yours, and I myself mine.
I sing to thee, O troubled soul, Whose waters wean to woe. I hope you know, or want to know, That all is not ice and snow.
As this little sparrow, sits by the window sill, alone, afraid, yet restless, resilient, headstrong and pure, my eye still watches its defenceless wings,
I sit next to the water upon a broken stone. At times I wonder if the water ever tends to feel alone. Most of the time I ponder
Thoughts from an Underling
While the world holds its fools, Its jesters, and its kings, What riches lay for us, The small underlings? Are we of their kind?
Watching From Above
Looking from up here to down below, Grants me majesty I had never held. But why so grand when I am so small? Makes me think about almost nothing at all.
A Call To Write
Instead of writing about us and them, She jots her notes on a flower stem. Her thoughts run, run and then stand still,
Trust Your Hand
Do he sing to Cupid, when in need of love? Or does he reach out to Heaven, praying for a gentle dove? When his heart leaps at the sight of thee,