Come to the theatre, discern the actions, there on the stage,
With actors giving you their all, your interest to engage,
The light, scenery and music, the atmosphere is great,
There's drama, and there's comedy, it's a chance to celebrate.
...
A spider spins a micro fine thread, her gentle web to weave,
It is with awe, that we behold this art, one can't believe
This work, viewed on a frosty morn, portrays pieces of fragile lace,
How can a tiny creature create these patterns, with silent grace.
...
The sun is a beach ball covered in sand,
Warming up this little land.
It's been kicked into the blue sky,
By a boy on the beach, that kicked it too high.
...
I sit and look at photographs of relations that used to be,
Some I remember from childhood, some related more distantly,
Their faces often smiling, or serious and stern,
Some looking very peaceful and gentle in their turn.
...
A pure white feather floats silently towards the ground.
As it lands, I pick it up,
and rest it gently in the palm of my hand.
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Why are we so at daggers drawn,
With anger and with hate,
Why has this become a duel at dawn,
Why can't we now relate.
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It came upon a midnight dear,
A baby's cry, a mother's tear,
A babe to change this earthly sphere,
A saviour who is always near.
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I held his hand, and glanced at him,
He said his eyes were growing dim,
His breath was shallow, and hardly there,
This moment that we both could share
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I think I'll stick my neck out, decided the Giraffe,
But if I do than everyone will surely start to laugh,
It really is no picnic up here at these heady heights,
It can get extremely windy and very cold most nights.
...