Whimsy

  • The Lonely Soul

    The lonely soul is a beauty. She is quiet, so quiet as she whispers her way through the noise, through the dark, through the rain. Sing a sweet song to her. Call to her and she shall hand you a… Continue reading

  • Evermore

    Hold my heart, dear music. Let me float in the clouds, on the sweetest of tunes; let me hold this feeling, still, while the moon wraps around me. Sing it again, sweet Angel. Evermore is the breath of this beautiful,… Continue reading

  • Love

    It is a beautiful thing to know love. To feel it burning, aching, glowing; how I have known love is as small as an hour born of its grand, magnificent day. I have loved in many ways. Is there a… Continue reading

  • Gypsy

    I see the world, and I know it has been named by those who came before me. Who have I become (or not become) because of what they have shown me? Voices claiming to guide are often sour to my… Continue reading

  • Little Light

    What colour shall I paint my sky? Soft-pink and grey: clouds of spun sugar, sweet dreams that drift me to life? Bring me a cool breath of clarity. Bring me a little light, and I will shine it, wherever I… Continue reading

  • Heaven on Earth

    I am the the trees and the wind. Two melted into one: Body and soul travelling the pink lace road of heaven on earth. Continue reading

  • Flight

    Her flight was sweet. And every bit as magical as the hummingbird sipping honeysuckle beside her. Continue reading

  • Grey

    Shall I sing to you only of sun shiny days? I cannot. The clouds are grey over the meadow and the rain falls fat and cold upon the emerald green. I will not tell you the sun is shining. It… Continue reading

  • All The Lovely Things

    If I were a forest, there would be afternoon sun slicing through my trees. And little white rabbits would hop along the way between the daisies and the rushing river and I would know this was the sweetest day. If… Continue reading

  • Emerald Sweet

    I breathe but I can’t feel you. I soften but creation does not flow. Am I stuck? Or do I just think I am stuck because I am not flying through raw wisps of forestland? It is my choice to… Continue reading