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06.January.24

More often than not often, When life in-waves fate’s crashes, It drenches the soul in blues. Hence, first, may each crest bear best— Lavoltaing an uplift— Lining heart with golden hues. ; )

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05.January.25

Between the beanfeast and a mean frost, Ilsa paused— Alone— And felt more invited and welcomed Than whence she had come. As flakes kissed hellos, She felt warmthfulness By neither muffs, Nor scarf, Nor coat, But by an open air Waiting to be breathed ‘Fore exhales whispered Wistful stories As wondering wisps To evening’s branched, Bending ears. ; )

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04.January.24

By couraged will, one may pass a merestone. By persistence, one may progress alone. Be aware, though, of direction signs shown And keep forwarding forth if all is known; Else, step a turn before goal becomes groan. ; )

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03.January.25

Would a mighty trunk see Fallen leaves as piune? For they do lack the might To uphold branches right And, re support’s avail, They oft respond in bail. But, in that time unseen, Just missed as most serene, Purpose appears as light And fragile bears no fright As drop’s dance dynamic Uplifts storied static. ; )

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