Love, Is An Unnatural Attachment

A Flower Blooms Best In A Happy Pot.

There Was A War Going On In Our House. A Silent War That Sounded No Guns, And The Bodies That Fell Were Only Wishes That Died And The Bullets Were Only Words And The Blood That Spilled Was Always Called Pride.

Patience. I Colored Patience Gray, Hung Over With Black Clouds. I Colored Hope Yellow, Just Like The Sun We Could See For A Few Short Morning Hours. Too Soon The Sun Rose High In The Sky & Disappeared From View, Leaving Us Bereft And Staring At Blue.

Children Are Very Wise Intuitively; They Know Who Loves Them Most, And Who Only Pretends.

The Creative Genius Begins In The Idle Moment, Dreaming Up The Impossible, And Later Making It Come True.