Pure Bliss
Pure Bliss
First morning of Spring—
yellow roses greet the sun,
all relief appears.
A Dream On Christmas Eve
A Dream On Christmas Eve The quilted blanket wraps me in warmth, Beside the small rickety heater upon my nightstand. Within moments, my eyes close, After turning from the red winter jacket on my door. A cry— Who could be out on this rough winter night? I shoot out of bed, but where is the small, rickety heater, Which used to sit on my nightstand? A shiver escapes me. It’s cold— So I slip on my soft red slippers, Seeking a bit of comfort. I trudge to the door, now cracked wider than before. I step out, but my living room isn’t in sight— What a fright to see snow stretching everywhere. A sleeping arctic wolf replaces the hatstand, My Christmas tree is now a snowy, white marvel. I turn around, my door is gone, My house is nowhere to be found. But in the distance, I see a log cabin, glowing warm Beneath the large, white tree. A shelter from the cold. I run, following foot...
