A Perfect Life of Sevens

Another pickin’ and grinnin’ lyric.

Seven bridges under a blue sky
Seven days till tomorrow
Seven angels to watch over us
Seven roses ’bout to grow

Seven wishes hidden in a well
Seven faeries left last May
Seven dancers and their seven songs
Seven guitarristas play.

Every day, every night
As we rise for flight
Our dreams lift us on our way

Above the blues and greens
And the colors in between
We fly along our way

Seven stones ripple ‘cross the water
Seven stars kiss the moon
Seven stories needing to be told
Some come later, some come soon

Seven winters and their snowy fields
Seven summers almost heaven
Seven autumns and seven springs
Just a perfect life of sevens.

Every day, every night
As we rise for flight
Our dreams lift us on our way

Above the blues and greens
And the colors in between
We fly along our way.

micropoem for the day: clouds

It’s an everyday thing, clouds. There are few days when there are none in the sky. When they are not there, we kinda miss them, now don’t we? Even now, I see images in those clouds that my imagination give me. Sometimes there are elephants and whales or giraffes and lions and tigers, oh my. Sometimes I imagine a Noah’s ark and sometimes cowboys chasing stampeding cattle. Whatever those clouds are, cotton candy or soft puffs, they are still wonderful.

clouds floating islands
smoke from a wizard’s pipe
dissolving into a rain storm