Sticks and Stones

Just a stick of wood,
that feels so good.
A pencil awaits a hand,
for alone it can not stand.
And lie it never should.
With paper it melds,
emotion thus swells.
Then feeling as should,
the lines understood.
And life’s pokes it quells.
The mind set free,
the future we see.
The past that is earned,
a new leaf is turned.
But breaks will always be.



Watch and Sea

There once a young ladd from a small beach.
His eyes grew bigger of a world out of reach.
Till ships bells called, future’s clear.
Away to venture, the beach stayed near.
Anchors away, the waves did teach.