Monday

Festive green wreaths, bright red bows hanging onto life,
They are just a show.
Laughter and cheer have fallen aside, tossed out like trash,
Along the curbside.
Life resumes its normal pace, as bleak gray skies hover over,
An unsettled grace.
People walking their dogs
Their thoughts property of God,
Never just their own –

Life in reality, the
Whimsical snow globe is gone.


Words are just words to someone who worships numbers.


Clear raindrop dripping from a leaf
Salty tear moving softly down my cheek

Image: www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/columnists/article...