Iron propeller
sitting entrance to driveway...

Red ~ gold ~ brown ~ and .... green
rustic ~ over - tures .... whistlers...

This poem is not about what is written, but what...

Enticing to eyes watching mama's pink roses bloom
fourty years later someone else now cares for them...

Symbolic icon
abrupts captivating flight...

Now that your gone and floating amidst
Heaven's shores I keep hearing the...

Her tears stained the paper
after reading the article...

Mama warned me about him
hitting the towns...

Helplessly he stumbled
through the door...

Nightly butterfly kisses
before bedtime prayers said...

Watched an eagle soar lands edge
wings extended winds as pledge...

Won't you be mine
From the next county line...