As I walked into the backyard to find my son,
I wondered how I could ever explain it to him...

A straggler hanging
from its naked limbs, golden and brown...

The scattered snow
on the icy lake...

As I watched from across the bar,
I could see her pain and emptiness within...

A poem is like a window
whether clear or color paned...

(Stanzas in [] refer to the son and those without...
A noise from downstairs...

They say keep your chin up,
they say hold your head high...

When you place those words upon a sheet
of paper and you hear the beat...

Where the suns gleam doth but graze
the subtle crest of the broken waves...

As I sat in the sand by the swings
I couldn't help pondering...

Its roar was thunderous and threatening.
It stood there, towering in the middle of a...

There is always a middle to a tootsie roll
and a break in the road as to pay a toll...