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Francie Lynch Dec 2023
Between autumn's offerings
And spring's wings,
Our winter lights are everything.
Crisp sky nights string tinsel streams,
And crystal air heils winter's dreams.

Poplar trees that snowed in summer
Are treasures held in winter's slumber;
Their branches hold in silhouette
Crowning stars that brightly sit.

Here dreams of flight and fancy thrill
Shimmering eyes on a gift-wrapped hill.
Shorelines once rubbed with reeds,
Are splashed by our moonlight beads.
Knolls wrapped in wreaths of herring bone,
Like sirens call us out from home.

Stars held in place with poplar fingers
Ring our ponds like carolling singers.
There nestled by framed winter scenes,
Our winter lights glint red and green.

These lights, that through our windows stream,
Bring to mind warm Christmas dreams.
Sally A Bayan Oct 2020
^ ^ ^


I meant to write about two
black and white butterflies,
resting upon the thick leaves
of my Norfolk island pine tree,
i planned to write about
a grasshopper, camouflaged by
the green grass on the front yard,
i almost crashed its body, if it hadn't
leapt before i stepped on it...
i was thinking of turning on the
christmas lights this monsoon season,
for an early holiday start.

i focus on happy scenes,
on good times past...because,
i miss those times, and
i long for them to come back...

there are some things i couldn't fix,
which i think, gave birth to this
pain inside my tummy.
to not know what happens next,
scares me so.

and so, i keep trying...to write of
butterflies and grasshoppers,
and
i might just hang a lantern,
instead.



Sally

Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 12, 2020

— The End —