I don’t want to suffer this change.

Ever notice that sometimes the wind seems to be in a hurry?

You are in the firing line of her furious rage.

Poetry.

Some “mothers” do have them…

I can’t tolerate your anger.

In this poem of mine, I’m telling one the value, power and effect of a single drop of their tears. I’m doing that by comparing tears with nature.

If a picture speaks a thousand words, I’m sure these speak a billion words.

An original poem by me. One of my more angry styles.

The dance of love is a true dance of love.One only for seeking truth…

Some words in my mind.