Change…

In the still, small hours of the morning
When the day is yet to be,
Life’s gently whispered omen
Comes silently to me.

The bud that opened up within
Has become a precious tree...
Don’t look back where life has been,
But toward what is yet to be.

In seasons all things come to pass
We cannot alter that...
But know that in the stormy blast
We should be…where we’re at!

Copyright©2008 by VSchoonover. All rights reserved.

Charissa

The little girl’s laughter
Echoed through the rooms
Of the old house…
…waking it from
A long slumber.

The patter of
Her tiny feet…
…brought a smile
To its soul.

For a time…once again...
Princesses, fairies and gnomes
Roamed freely, puppies could talk,
And Pirate ships…
Sailed through the living room
In search of buried treasure.

The sun shone brighter
As imagination and wonder
Filled the air with a charge…
Beyond electricity.

Then she was gone.

Quiet routine…
Claimed the house once again,
As it settled back
Into the tick-tock
Of Life.

The Blessings
Of her joy…
Stored safely deep inside.

Copyright©2008 by VSchoonover. All rights reserved.