Looking at the world
through rose coloured glasses.
As the winds and clouds roll by.
Like thoughts and ideas,
they make smooth passes.
My feelings;
like dots in the sky.
Surrounding yourself pleasantly
is difficult sometimes.
The flowers and the trees,
are not always in rhyme.
My expectations are like chimes,
in what a world finds fair.
So different is the light
that my daydreams share.
Just a little bit of sunshine
Just a little bit of rain
Lots and lots of love
And our garden
Is happy again.
Their faces are blooming
Their stems tall and straight
Swaying with the breeze
In our little piece of Eden
Doing as they please.
If people could be flowers
Instead of ivory towers
What a peaceful place
Our world would be.
Who is the poet of the flower?
The answer changes by the hour.
Petals of
blue,
and of white,
and of pink.
The scent of the flower,
Cause the poet to think.
The stem,
The stalk,
Where in
The flower's beauty
Locks.
Grown
In sand, and soil,
And rock.
God's paint brush
Moves,
With grace and ease.
Beauty, found and sought.
Groovy Tales of a Well Adult 