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About This Author
 Writing poetry allows me to exercise my imagination and share it with others. I strive to write for the benefit of the reader using carnival fun mirror images of my life's experiences.
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| It was to be a hot September day In the house of his mother and father The blinds were drawn to disguise the decay Some bags of trash were piled in the corner. His dad's covered chair sat against the wall Sudden death took him many years before His mom was confirmed with cancer last fall Through her pain, he did his best to succor. On the porch he found his bike faded blue The water pump rusted dry in the yard Rainbows of flowers his mom loved still grew A landslide of past memories hit hard. In mom's flower bed he stood where she bent And combated an emotional swell He lost the fight when he perceived her scent Into the flowers, his silent tears fell. In time and with many tears wiped away He heard the squirrels, insects, and singing birds He looked up and saw the sun at midday He heard his mom's voice which said, without words: "With your memories and feelings intense Your tears into flowers bloom on the vine Inside my dear garden (missing a fence!) Tears into flowers make heaven's light shine." 24 Lines
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