Untitled

"Untitled Poem"

No sounds were heard, not even chirping birds.
Not heaven's spoken words.

He sees things - but who doesn't?

The roaring of the ocean is silent and He strains to listen.
He doesn't even listen.

Drunker then hell and stoned sober at the same time.

If it wasn't for The Mother's Father - Life would not know Him.

He believes colors have their own sounds.
And the colors are music to his ears.

He's out in the cold - teeth chattering and face turning blue.
To Him the robin is red.
Leaves are purple.
The soil is blue.

And buildings are a different hue in his view.
The sky is in black and white like the television in the sites.
Up, up, and away are his flights with many colors' lights.

To Him the blood he feels through His veins is all in other brains.
It is as grey as this cloudy day.

He loves to be held.
Laughs when He is.

To Him life is a dream He can't understand.
His wish is my demand!
He's really not interested in such matters.

He loves the world unlike many of his brothers and sisters.
This child of mine is happy that He can eat.
Satisfied to stay cool when it's hot and warm when it's cold.

God loves you my beautiful one!


Billet - dedicated to a most loved one.
Sunday - June 19th.