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hide-and-seek

      Among the well-pruned trees.

      The bittersweet love their hearts can feel,

      When with pleasure their eyes behold,

      Children playing in glee.

      Content and jolly, no fears or cares.

      May angels their guardian be,

      While their grieving hearts in constant plea

      To open the portal of a cursed womb.

      Two souls that needs to be a family

      In a house they hope to be a home.

      If only her womb could be blest

      And bear them fruits of their own.

      No giggling, shouting, screaming, or laughter.

      No jeering, cheering, yelling, or applauding.

      The voices of children are absent from the ears.

      No sharing of joy on the well-manicured lawn

      And the lonely golden retriever stand silent and still

      With no children with which to play.

      The cursed womb had reaped a spell

      When first a fetus life the parents expelled

      And locked the portal, no ins or out

      And now an infertile womb, a deserted tomb.

      Fancy cars in their driveway parked.

      They fashioned rubies, diamonds, and cultured pearls.

      Many precious jewels upon them are bestowed,

      But a cursed barren womb never to be restored.

      The Rainbow

      That colorful arc displays itself in the sky,

      One of nature’s most exciting creations

      That stimulates our curiosity

      And leads us to awesome wondering

      Just how Mother Nature paints this way.

      With her seven primary colors in the sky

      Arching over the oceans, lakes, and seas?

      Vivid colors as bright as the stars in the sky,

      One day it’s there, and the next it’s gone.

      Where did that colorful arch go,

      And why did it leave us so soon?

      Its presence has graced us for less than a day.

      Then without a warning, it is gone.

      Did it disappear, or did it move to somewhere?

      No marks remain, not even a single blot,

      That beautiful and yet illusive work of art

      Nature paints on its canvas, the sky.

      Those rainbows often come in a full circle.

      But seldom, if ever, have they revealed their all

      And grant us a treat to our eyes.

      The rainbow, an arc painted in the sky.

      A Lonely Craft

      A lonely craft battling a storm

      Trying to find its way home

      As it ventured across a channel.

      With a single man as its captain, mate, crew, and cargo,

      What would prove a difficult task for a crew of four

      Now seems an impossible feat for one.

      With a single crew and the absence of cargo,

      His vessel so light, all throughout the night,

      He fought a gallant fight to keep his vessel afloat.

      And the lighthouse on the hill in his sight

      But as he got weary, his strength failed.

      He collapsed and his little craft began to drift.

      With the absence of his wit, the lonely craft

      Fell to the will of the storm, and indeed

      It showed no mercy, but tossed his vessel about

      Like a leaf in that rugged white channel.

      But when at last the morning came

      And the sun shines down on his face,

      A single man, as captain, mate, crew, and cargo.

      Lay flat on his back, in his little vessel,

      Still absent of his mind.

      With his Irish hound licking on his face

      To welcome him home.

      In time he was awakened, by a man’s best friend.

      A Man’s Castle

      Away from the hustling and bustling crowd,

      He opened the door and entered his castle

      And locked the crazy world outside.

      Now to concentrate on what is inside.

      Because within these walls lies his all

      The family that he loves most dearly.

      For in his castle he reigns as the king

      With his other half, the castle’s queen.

      Together they rule in their domain.

      Thus side by side they stand,

      Not one above and the other below,

      Or one in front and the other behind.

      If only as his nightly paradise

      Within his walls, he enjoys his sanctuary

      There in his castle in bliss he stares

      At portraits of many revered ancestors

      That decorate his castle walls.

      And often he would mumble to them.

      “Look at who you have made possible.”

      Then he would point to, or touch

      Some of the infants, or later birth

      To link the early past, to the tranquil now.

      Often, he would take the princes and princesses

      And teach them the chain of the generation.

      A New Nation

      When in search of freedom to worship,

      They fled from their British homeland

      And landed on this foreign soil called America.

      They adopted it as their new home,

      The British crown hunted them like hounds

      And imposed their taxes, a burden upon them.

      But they, like oxen, bore the harness;

      And when they could no longer

      Suffer so great an imposition.

      They refused to pay the taxes demanded,

      Denouncing taxation without representation

      Is bound to be unfair.

      Thus they were viciously

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