Hearth
She wears a feather in her hair,
With a thin and gentle frame.
She bears fiery hazel in her eyes,
With but few and quiet words.
She has a bright smile, unmatched in heart,
The pulse of love's resounding throb.
A Prayer in Finals
Let me try to collect my thoughts. Teenagers. Stress. Ripples. It's a stage of turmoil, I've won before, Show me how to do it, again, Oh God. Show me how to lay my life and habits, My fear of failure and my time wasted slothfulness, My crutches of false gods and prophets... ...My crutch on her. All before you! Oh, Lord, I want to be your man, and your son. I want you to be pleased with what I am doing, and to seldom ever see me fall, Lord. Show me the way, like you did to Moses and the oppressed Hebrew out of Egypt's hand. I sound like everything I'm saying is a cliche, Lord. Please believe, your son, who wants to be with you. Forever.
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