If I could take a brush and paint the mountains and the moors,
I would splash the hillsides yellow and cover them in gorse.
I'd take the finest needle and the darkest thread of green
And sew a line of bracken along the landscape. In-between

I'd lay a purple carpet of wild heather in the dells
And fringe the edge of all the woods with their pretty lilac bells.
I'd merge the bracken with the heather, mix their colours like the sea,
A green and purple ocean on my own rich tapestry.

Then I'd take a ball of soft, white wool and stitch a mass of daisy chains
Around the lush green meadows and up the sides of winding lanes.
I would stencil on the marshes, just like pure white china cups,
Some fragile water lilies and by the ponds, sweet buttercups.

I'd mix orange, reds and yellows planting poppies wild and free
Onto nature's coloured canvas, my own rich tapestry.

pen and "P"aper
poems and qu"O"tes
     writing's th"E" refuge
                  tha"T" gives me hope
         it release"S" the hurt

  and feelings o"F" pain.
           It clears "O"ut  the worries
               that d"R"ive us insane.

                       I'l"L" forever be grateful.
                  Noth"I"ng compares.
      For all that I "F"ace,
        poetry is th"E"re.

Never stop caring about the little things in life.
Never stop dreaming, and don't give into strife.
Never stop wondering are we on our own.
Never stop thinking has your spirituality grown.

Never stop building bridges that lead to better tomorrows.
Never stop trying, and don't give into sorrow.
Never stop feeling amazed at the beauty that surrounds you.
Never stop hearing the music, and don't give into the blues.

Never stop pushing away negative thoughts that make you feel sad.
Never stop looking at all the miracles we have had.
Never stop loving the ones you hold dear.
Never stop giving, and don't give into the fear.

Never stop smiling, but look forward to each new day.
Never stop shining in your own special way.
Never forget that all storms will clear.
Remember brighter tomorrows are always near.

I wish he could know
What I'm too scared to show.
I wish he could see
Just how much he means to me.
I wish he could tell
That I know him so well.
I wish he could feel
My love that is real.
I wish he could hear
The things that I fear
About him never knowing
That my love for him is growing.

Your eyes are fire.
Their image burnt into my soul,
Scarred by beauty.

I am over you.
Then my eyes meet yours once more,
and I fall in love.