Look up at the star spangled sky
I sure hope all your dreams come true
I will sing you a lullaby
I’ll only sing it just for you
In the song you can feel the spring
With a fragment of ocean’s blue
And sense a little bit of swing
That is when I believe in you
On the way I will take your hand
In this song I give you my heart
And suddenly you’ll understand
It’s a very nice place to start
Something quite precious that will show
A friendship that will grow in years
The compassion of what we know
A treasure box of smiles and tears
I notice that something is not quite right as my normal
heart rate increases from 68 to 110 beats per minute. I
start to sweat a little. I lie on my back with my knees on
either side of my head and my butt in the air. The fireman
is trying to push a large fire hose in my bowels. When he
succeeds he puts me up on my feet and stands behind me. He
firmly grabs my breasts and when he squeezes, my mouth
automatically goes wide open. There comes a big jet of
water out. The harder he squeezes, the more powerful the
beam. If he squeezes my left breast, my head goes to the
left and when he squeezes my right breast, my head is
turning to the right. The fireman has not yet realized that
the harder he squeezes the higher the fire flares up. My
heart is now in the frantic pace of 180 beats per minute.
Then my subconscious comes suddenly to life and I realize
the water is freezing. An icy cry escapes my lips and I cry
Bathed in sweat I wake up. I lie stretched out in my bed,
my love is on his side and rubs gently over my naked belly.
“Nightmare darling?” He asks friendly.
“Ahhhhhhh.” More words don’t come past my vocal cords, and
a moment later when the shivers come down my spine, I know
I’m struck by the first wave of the flue.
She is always my little miss Sunshine
She is at any time here for me
Although we don’t have the same bloodline
We are family as always meant to be
She is just like a fairy, tiny and frail
But in her loving she is very strong
And in lifting me up she will never fail
In her heart forever is where I belong
She is my bicycle, with wheels that turn around
She’ll never give up, push you to great heights
And still manage to stay firm on the ground
When clouds are dark she gives you hope and lights
She is a bundle of happiness and bliss
Like wind in your hair and sunshine on your face
Pure joy is the sweetest part of this
The friendship to each other time will not erase
Our lives are like redwood framed windows
Easy to lean on and with a marvelous view
Just the addition of a few pillows
And the restful thoughts that I pursue
We are kindred spirits, friends of the old
We called it anam cara many years ago
In the time of fairies and pots of gold
We are heart friends with silver strings, I know
Papers, papers, papers all around
What should I do with it
Should I keep them with a string bound
Or stack them neatly fit
I’ve got some writing paper, crisp and clean
Flimsy paper weighing like feather
The most exquisite drawn lines you’ve ever seen
Perfect white and bound in leather
I’ve got vellum smooth as a babies skin
The finest parchment durable for time
It looks so good when mixed in
With Calligraphy letters of rhyme
Then of course there is some waste paper left
With the news of everyday
It’s something you can stack to the heft
Or just daily throw away
My favorite papers are just scraps
In all the colors of the rainbow
With butterfly pictures or maps
Just any kind if I may say-so
In my treasure box I found a special one
My dissertation on humanity
The best thesis award I have won
Kept me from insanity
And in the corner of an old chest
I found some wallpaper that I left behind
You should’ve thought I was obsessed
Whatever ideas did I have on my mind
It’s just a sheet of paper you say
But you know I really must admit
I don’t want to throw it all away
I continue to gather bit by bit
A silver thread …
The little girl Indra was just like a ball of wool rolled up in her bed and wept. Her mom had heard the soft cries and came to look at her.
“What is it, dear”, she asked with a warm voice.
“I’m so scared, Mommy.”
Mama lifted the little girl out of her bed and took her to the garden. She sat down on the porch swing with Indra in her arms and rocked her gently back and forth.
“Tell Mama, but why you’re so afraid. Have you seen strange things? Or are you scared of a sound?”
Indra shook her head and said in a hoarse voice: “I’m so afraid I’ll lose you, Mommy. When I go to sleep, I’m afraid you are not there when I wake up.”
Mom closed her arms tighter around her daughter.
“But, my baby girl, don’t you know that you can not get rid off me. You and I are stuck together.”
Cheerful smiling she looked at her little girl. Indra looked questioningly up and dried her tears.
“How can we stuck together”, said Indra as she looked at her arms and legs. “I don’t see a string.”
Her mom laughed loudly and said: “That is something you can’t see, only mommies and daddies can see that string. I have a silver thread tied to my wrist and the other end is fixed to you. Sometimes it is to your leg, and another time at a lock of your hair, but you’re always fastened on my silver thread. So wherever you are, I can always feel you.”
Indra rubbed her hand on one leg and then she felt her curls. “But I feel nothing, Mommy.”
“You know what? If you have your eyes tightly squeezes, then perhaps you can see the silver thread.”
Indra closed her eyes tightly and began to laugh.
“Oh, Mommy,” she looked surprised to her mommy. “I see a white stripe.”
Mom looked at her little girl with big eyes: “How wonderful. Do you know that this is very rare. But you know what that means?”
Giggling and curious Indra danced back and forth on the lap of her mother.
“That means you never have to worry that you can’t find mommy. If you close your eyes and you see the white line, then you know I am around.”
The doorbell rings. Indra jumps from the lap of her mother and skips to the frontdoor. There she waits for her mom and together they open the door. To their great surprise grandma is standing on the sidewalk.
Indra jumps into the arms of her grandma and starts telling that a silver thread is connecting her to her mom.
Elated Grandma laughs full and says: “Yes, but of course, I also have a string tied to your mom. Because she may well live on the other side of the country, I always know where she is.”
Indra looks at the hands of her grandmother, but can not find a silver thread. She squeezes her eyes shut and again she sees a white stripe.
“Yes, Grandma. I can see it.”
Later that evening grandmother brings her to bed.
“Goodnight dear Indra, dream about the silver thread. Now you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”