The breeze caresses
my skin.
Flower buds bloom
before my eyes.
Morning dew
coats my feet.
Spring
overwhelms my senses.
This dream
brightens as
the fan turns my way
as the breeze caresses
my skin.

-Rebecca Joy-

Past, Present, Future

Tell me, tell me, smiling child,
What the past is like to thee ?
'An Autumn evening soft and mild
With a wind that sighs mournfully.’

Tell me, what is the present hour ?
'A green and flowery spray
Where a young bird sits gathering its power
To mount and fly
away.’

And what is the future, happy one ?
'A sea beneath a cloudless sun ;
A mighty, glorious, dazzling sea
Stretching into infinity.’

-Emily Brontë-