Life may not be perfection But it's perfect Waking up in the morning But not yet awake Alert enough to my surroundings Yet no clue what is going on around me Knowing what lies ahead Yet having no idea what is in store Only one thing is for certain But never for sure As he lies next to me Asleep, yet awaking Not yet aware But conscious enough to know I am watching His sparkling baby blues open Yet halfway closed He smiles and says I love you And now it is clear why I am here
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
Love this!
John