03 Feb

Morning Mist



They were older now, yet every morning at 6 a.m. they walked.

They became children again, checking under the bridges for trolls

Skipping when they felt like it

Watching and listening to everything and laughing at life


Each morning was a different scene

In such a windy place this scene was rare

They looked at each other and understood


It’s all about perspective, she said

We can be the water; clear, fluid

and give ourselves time for reflection

Or we can be the cement path;

dark and immovable

If we be the water we are

the trees and the green grass


© Saria

03 Feb





Thoughts like raindrops

as they fall from the clouds of the mind

dropping into the ground

moistening any seeds it can find to provide further growth

22 Mar

Through A Crack In The Door



Crack in the Door



Through A Crack In The Door

There she was standing there, alone in the dark.
A sliver of sunlight danced with the dust
as it made it's way through a crack in the door.
Twirl with me it said.
It kissed her face,
It opened her soul, enticing her to come out and play.

She didn't know how to open the door,
the handle was too high for her to reach.
After all she was only 3 years old.
What she did know was she could do anything.
She slipped into the sliver of light,
Out through the crack in the door
and into the full light of day.

© Saria