My little brother, Sam, doesn’t think leprechauns are real – can you believe that Green, lucky, rainbows, pots of gold How can they not be real After all, green is a color, rainbows shine in the sky, luck happens and gold can be put in…
Tag: Jill Halasz
Fourteen Rocks – Hour Seven
Fourteen rocks, purple orbs Easily crushed by hand Scooped and shaped, delicately formed From a child’s box of sand Hours of fun and memories made With all the questions born Were these rocks native to the moon That came to earth airborne Or were…
Still a Good Daughter but More – Hour Six
I still remember that Father’s Day, 14 years ago. You wore that special ruffled purple dress I loved. You looked beautiful walking down those stairs. It made me smile. When I shook your hand, later that day, and told you that you’d been a good…
Cardinal Memory – Hour Five
She rook a somber stroll one day In hopes to clear her mind She came upon a rundown shack The bleakest you could find Its outer walls covered in vines ’twas dark and dusty too And peering through its window pane A storm began to…
The Old Piano Man – Hour Four
Across the room, a relic stands It has many a year The tunes of generations’ bands Heard by many an ear Played by a man, up in his time He’s seen and heard it all Requests are grand, critiques are few From open to last…
My Sunflower Girl – Hour Three
My sunflower girl You brighten all my days My sunflower girl You are in my heart always Whenever I’m down You can always bring a smile My sunflower girl Please stay here with me awhile My sunflower girl You are happy through the dim My…
Between the Woods and Frozen Lake – Hour Two
“Between the woods and frozen lake…” Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, line 7. Between the woods and frozen lake A figment in the snow A foreign sign found at daybreak What is it? I don’t know I ponder should I take…
The Seashell – Hour One
I took my baby to the beach I walked her to the water A million seashells in our reach A day for Mom and daughter A moment that had harkened back To days spent in my youth My Dad and I had quite the knack…
Homeward Bound – Hour Twenty-Four
As I cross the bridge over the river, I know I’m almost home The changing leaves, their colors bright as if to welcome me back The two lane roads, the Amish buggies, the fields that span for miles The air so crisp and clean, I’m…
Listening – Hour Twenty-Three
Listening Just be still and listen and then tell me what you hear Is the quiet all but deafening? Does it make you shed a tear? Does the silence bring you anger, for you need chaos throughout Or does it bring you worry, filling up…