STORYTIME
Under whispering trees
in dappled shade,
come sit with me
on this fallen log
in the gentle hours.
And I will read to you
poetry of times long gone
when forests breathed
sweet fragrances
and life was slow.
Feel your worries slip
away to the leaf-soft carpet
unwelcome
as you step into
this wonderworld
of magic tales
and mystery.
Let me paint
your dreams
and wishes
and hopes
and memories
alive
where the sun by day
and the moon by night
embrace you
and let your spirit dance
and sing,
remembering.
And when the poems end
as all must do,
may you arise
and may your workaday
be soft-edged
and bright-hearted
and for that
I will be smile-glad.
