MY POEMS

The sun is shining, perhaps the storm subsides, only patience will let us know. “Yours is the light by which my spirit's born: - you are...

Searching for something is usually something inside. As we continue to be blown about by the storm, we think about the people holding it...

The storm continues - and we all consider our lot, stuck. “But, instead of what our imagination makes us suppose and which we worthless...