Over the Rainbow

***

It’s the bluest of days in this U.S.A
A college of yellow gave our future away
Now a con man’s been throned
And we all are now owned
The reds gold having its sway

~*~

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Snowflakes

 If no two snowflakes are the same,

When melted do they come back again?

How do all the storm clouds know,

What each other makes for snow?

 **

Though thought all different, ingredients same

Freely floating flakes, cousins of rain

Minuscule crystals suspended in lines

Destiny’s same – the kiss of sunshine

 *

Just another of natures’ follies, like we all

The higher the cloud, the faster the fall

The longer the blizzard, the deeper the strife

The hotter the day, the shorter the life

 .

Do we really care if snowflakes are the same?

Or are we just repeating an old silly game?

A game that can never ever be won –

When all the pieces melt in the sun

~*~

Sck121314

A Christmas Tail

Chapter 1 ~ the Beginning

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All’s quiet this early winter’s night.

Embers fade in the candles dancing light.

I was thinking of Christmas, many years past.

Those fond old memories, now fading fast.

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I recalled when our home came alive.

I was just a small girl of about five.

It was a grand old house for mom, dad and me.

Sat perched on a hill overlooking the sea.

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It’s still a museum in our little town.

It was built by a General of historic renown.

Shared with his bride Martha, she had a sad life.

The General’s a hero, she a young widowed wife.

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We cared for the house and gave the tours.

All year-long we opened our doors.

We welcomed the guest to step back in time.

So come on in and share our rhyme.

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I lay awake and tossed and turned.

Thinking of school and all I learned.

Letters and numbers and new friends,

I hope kindergarten never ends.

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My thought disturbed by shapes on the wall,

a moonlit dance, shadows big and small.

It pranced to my table that’s set for tea.

There’s a seat for Teddy and Dolly plus one for me.

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It climbed the chair with a dancer’s grace.

She must be a girl with a whiskered face.

Dolly left some crumbs on her plate.

When I remembered it was too late.

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I Left a treat each night for a week.

I tried staying awake to catch a peek.

I’ll call her Martha, like our homes bride

But when I giggled she ran to hide.

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Chapter 2 ~ New Friends

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The days passed, she’d visit most nights.

She kept unseen until I turn out the lights.

She knows I’m cozy in my warm bed.

She smiles and winks, thankful she’s fed.

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One night I waited, still in my chair.

Starlight warmed the chilly night air.

Eyelids dropped like the falling moon.

I hope my visitor gets here soon.

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Night turned to-day, feet cold on the floor.

I missed my friend but goodies no more.

The next night I brought a cookie to bed.

I woke with my new friend by my head.

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Days got colder, Christmas was near.

I looked forward to the snacks we share.

Each passing night our friendship grows.

We chat and laugh, I scratch her nose.

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Thanksgiving’s past, Santa’s on his way.

The tree goes up, brighter each day.

We’re happy to welcome all our new guests,

while I wore my new colonial dress.

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I tell them of the homes long past,

Of all that’s lived here, my family last.

I tell them of their history.

But never a word of Martha and me.

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On the last day of school before the break,

we celebrated with carols and cake.

We shared cards and hugs then on our way.

We’re off to the bus and our long holiday.

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Glad to be home, much to be done.

Baking and wrapping with mom will be fun.

I think Christmas is the best time of year.

There’s lots of visits from friends far and near.

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Chapter 3 ~ Good and Bad

 .

It’s not just gifts that makes Christmas best.

It’s all the excitement, no time for rest.

One snowy day mom and I went to town.

Main Street’s so merry, never a frown.

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When we returned from our last-minute shop,

we saw a truck with a light on top.

A man in a hard-hat talked with my dad.

They both spoke quietly and looked very sad.

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My parents whispered, thought I didn’t hear.

Something’s was broken too much to repair.

Said we’re leaving, where they don’t know.

I loved our home and didn’t want to go.

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I gave the last tour on that very sad day.

We finished our cocoa with little to say.

Mom read aloud then kissed me goodnight.

Dad tucked me in, turned out the light.

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I lay sobbing at the loss of our house.

No new friends, no Martha the mouse.

I then had a plan and ran for my bank.

Shook out the coins and my little heart sank.

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Martha came close, she knew I was sad.

I forgot the snacks but she wasn’t mad.

We counted my pennies in moonlight,

then crept downstairs later that night.

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We tucked my bank under the tree.

It’s for our old house from Martha and me.

But one last thing and then back to bed.

A snack for Martha and a pat on her head.

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My dad woke me early that Christmas day.

I knew he was sad, he smiled anyway.

We met mom in the hall, headed downstairs.

We all acted happy while holding back tears.

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Chapter 4 ~ New Beginnings

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The cookies were gone, Santa was here.

Beneath the tree, present are there.

But shocked to see something I’d never seen.

There are stacks of coins, sleeping mice in between.

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They ate Santa’s cookies then took a nap.

All snuggled together in the Christmas wrap.

Sleeping soundly until mom screams.

Then all were awakened from their dreams.

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Martha stood out front and winked at me.

She waved me over to come and see.

The piles of treasure they found last night.

That was lost under the floorboards out of sight.

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The Generals treasure, his coins of gold.

There’s enough to fix our homes splendor of old.

Martha saved our house and Christmas too.

She helped write this rhyme to share with you.

*

We wish you the best this holiday.

May all your days be just your way.

We’re glad to have shared our time as one.

From all of us here at our house of fun.

.

The End    

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All the World’s a Stage

~

Denying that the stairs to high,
spiraling downward to the sky.
Anger leads a path that’s long,
steps unseen when we’re strong.
.
We bargain for another day,
acting out our sold out play.
Compressed beneath the blanket of night,
depressed are we for its lack of light.
.
Stages clear when curtains fall,
the final bow shared by all.
Accepting now what is our grief,
death no longer beyond belief.

~*~
sck120316