Revamp

Leaf after leaf, flower after flower. Those trees blossom into the spring setting, the whole bright colors sparkling over the green luscious life that make up our backyards, gardens and parks. I see a lady-bug making its way across the terrain it has chosen to seek a path through. Surely searching for something on the other end.
As I set my eyes over the trees above I hear the birds fluttering and chirping, hidden by their camouflaged feathers that conceal them within those branches and flowers. I see you little birdie, I see you picking and eating, singing and dancing, interacting with others of your kind.
And as I sit here contemplating what’s around me I can’t help but think of my personal ‘spring’. Do I see myself as the person from last season? Have I undergone the withering yet renewing age of time as that of the past autumn? Am I the blossomed, fruitful, and renovated being I should be?
I think that to know this I should set my eyes back on my surroundings and see for myself the changes I’ve brought upon myself.

Aspirations

A diamond can be told if fake or not, an answer right or wrong, a rock from a stone and catch from bait, but tell me now, can you see a wish from a dream? Do not dreams portray the unthinkable, and somewhat sought after delights of our inner self, of our body, mind and maybe spirit. And we ponder over these extravagant ideas that soothe our thoughts and hearts. Wishes, those simple little things that we long for so profoundly, those that we immensely seek to accomplish. They are those ideas that penetrate from within our hearts and minds, to only run through our veins and flow from our desires to our achievements. Can we always embrace these desires and run them clear of doubt that they are completed, as we prove to ourselves that not only can we wish or dream but also achieve and accomplish because we have our minds set on those goals that compel us those needs to replenish our lives with the peace of mind.

Serenity

Water droplets running down the window, clouds sliding across the darkest skies; the moon hidden beneath the shadow of its own glory. Barks echoing, the sound of pouring rain over the roof, cars passing by rolling watery tires over the pavement. Sputters of sound crashing in the air, the voices of speech, movement and emotion. Where is my silence? Where is my peace? What am I missing out on? My body quivers on this cold empty house, home for the brave. Where can I find you eloquent friend? Can I seek you here and there? Do the rivers cry your name? Do the clouds shine under you fame? Does that book speak well of you? Will you tell what I can do? My watch sings as the hands spin over each number each vowel of time and day the structure of age and life.

Carriáge

The wooden and finely ornamented wheels rolling hard over the pebbles that lie over the dirt road, ‘Tidbit’ the horse hound trotting along, a clicker and a thump sounding inside the wagon. A can of dried fruit is opened for a delectable treat, the clipity-clop of the horses echoing through the surrounding forest. And eyes cast over them, watching as they slide past an old rotten tree that hangs loose over the path. The mist of the morning calming the dirt as it sits under the passing thumps and kicks the horses’ produce, the wind soothing the heat of the sun that rises from the east. Past the evening and past the afternoon, it’s now night time. The sun hiding in the west, the stars shining above and the moon gleams a smile. The thoroughfare is blocked, not a barricade but a stop, the horses neigh and a bark is heard, seated not a worry but a sigh, voices resound and steps are taken. Doors on each side maintain their closure, but a balance is undone and the wagon lost a son. The horses hey and the dog barks. Will is drawn but power is unveiled.