I don’t try my hand at poetry much anymore. I concentrate on short stories and novels.
Over the Hill
It rained again today.
The world seemed fresh and new.
The rainbow’s candy colors
Were bright against the blue.
It may have been the springtime
Or perhaps I’m getting old
But I almost could believe in
A rainbow pot of gold.
Clover
When I was a child, I had a place
That only my dog and I knew.
There were trees, a pond, and a grassy hill,
Where the four leaf clovers grew.
I went there often in the summer
Alone, because my friends were few.
There were birds and flowers and dreams to dream
Where the four leaf clovers grew.
Sometimes I went in the early morn
When the grass still glistened with dew.
I could laugh, I could cry, or watch the clouds,
Where the four leaf clovers grew.
Too soon I grew up and lost the way
And this feeling is sad but true
I long to go back to those days and that place
Where the four leaf clovers grew.
Circle
I am alone
Alone on a hill
A hill above
the city
The city lights are bright
Bright as stars in the country
In the country is where I belong
I belong with you
With you
In the country
Under the stars
Not in the bright
lights of the city
not on a hill alone
Alone.