The Magnolia trees – one with purple and one with white flowers, stand close to one another. Its their blosoming time. My father's gift – the reclining wooden chair, sturdy and comfy under the oak tree allows us to rest, to read in shade just like my father did looking after our needs. Now the grass needs mowing, the flower bed needs weeding, the vegetable patch needs care; but, I'm tired. Last year around this time my father departed. He no longer could come to visit us, may be in dreams.
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We're out there
holding yellow umbrellas, not to be dampened by bad rain. We gather together under yellow umbrellas which provide a larger dry area. The yellow umbrella gives us shade from a scorching sun. Under a yellow umbrella there is hope, freedom, ideals to fight for. refined crystal
stood upon rustic iron each balances the other in its own importance Open up yourself
let your courage and alertness disclose your door to transgression be brave, don't be afraid of changing you'll find that you're not alone find the good in you put it into use everything is waiting for you! when you're tired
retreat into your own night there, you'll find love, peace away from a busy world a cruel world a world you confine yourself only when alone dried, colourless, dead
winter comes too early motivation lost life no longer flourishing rosemary, where is thyme
she'd probably got lost under your spiky overpowering strength you had blossoms which died along the way but there is a speck of colour at the top a bend at the tip does that mean you've softened approaching the end out from the boulder hatch children
- red, white, black, brown they are not from this planet cause they do not share the vicious nature of human kind in their world there is no greed, no hatred they only have love love of brotherhood, love of love i'm waiting for them to come and rule this land and bring ultimate peace to us such are aliens no one will not welcome |
AuthorI started late to become a writer, after I graduated from the University of Auckland at the age of 57. It all began when one of my articles was first published in Muse, a magazine in Hong Kong. I just finished my first novel Tree which is about Chinese immigrants here in New Zealand. Being bipolar it hasn't been easy but I'm proud to have broken the vicious cycle and begin to enjoy life. I'm glad to have survived to this age and be able to live a most fulfilling life. Categories |