Life is a just a journey, where one ends,another
begins; is there any truth behind these lies...
I remember Christmas with overflowing apples,
butterflies in stomach...
Today, we gathered over the first
scrambled eggs you have...
I light a torch within this black
To show there is a way...
Even before the day you were born
Life dealt you its first blow...
You became my own child
though birthed from another man...
Like fine lace
friendships are woven...
Three small letters...
adding up...
Dedicated to Uncle Steve Kepros of Iowa, USA
I wish I had Gibran's hand...
Getting a call from my Daughter's Oncologist-
My heart stopped beating...
These hands of mine, are worn and done
the math they held, was more than some...
Do you know
the sadness which blows...