Frances Ayers

Heaven's gates swing wide open
Revealing lush gardens and paths
As a throng of wide eyed innocent
Children run pass the check in desk
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With expansive wings
Enfolding, gently guiding
Kind words effortlessly
Floating through a cloud chimed sky
...

Amidst brilliant skies
A sparrow carried your soul
Far from mortal eyes
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Empty dark eyes
Staring into space
Feeling devoid of purpose,
Have you embraced the grave?
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When my long journey on earth comes to an end
And the river of tears flow out to the sea
When silence appears like a long lost friend
And time alone replaces the feeling of 'we'
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A jubilant year
Birthed before expecting crowds
Bathed in awe and hope

We are born once more
...

Happiness arrives
Like a brightly wrapped package
Soon to be opened
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Refuge for my heart
Are these tattered, battered walls
Suffice it to say
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Refresh me with the sound of your voice
Echoing throughtout my listless mind
Helping to drown out all other noise
Leaving problems far behind
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Wishes
Dancing nightly
A picture in my brain
A spectacle of bright colors
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Newly born, written words desire to shine
Basking in glory, a well thought out page
Dressed in fine vellum, and well laid out line
With imbued wisdom of the oldest sage
...

Perceptions
Sometimes askew
As seen through filtered lens
And a cargo of emotions
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The stars carry you
To a vast and open sky
As I glimpse your face
Among the constellations
...

Some experts say winter makes us sad

Days are shorter, sulight not as bright
...

Winter winds go forth
As it chases away those
Caught up in its'path
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No legal ties to bind us, no shared blood in our veins.
Yet I call you father, in many many ways.

If soothing words can dry a tear, and love can ease the way.
...

Does anyone understand the pain that stings
Forever a part of her soul, which somehow clings
To every facet of her being, she pushes it away
But her tears keep coming, her grief always stays
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Your arms circle me and provide the heat
of a never ending fire that warms my heart
While soft kisses you give when we meet
Helps memories to linger when we are apart
...

The writer waits for his elusive muse
To guide his words onto the page
Words held hostage with an excuse
Waiting to break out of it's cage
...

Breathing life into our words is our goal
As we birth them onto paper from our very soul
Imagination is a springboard from which we create
The process is magic, I can hardly wait
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