DON’T FORGET TO BREATHE

Inhale.

Hold it.

Exhale.

We must not forget

to stop, take a breath,

and breathe.

THE WHITE PICKET FENCE

coiour-my-world:

Autumn Fence, Woodstock, Vermont

A walk down a country road,

not knowing what it may hold.

Leaves crunch loudly beneath my feet,

walking fast is no easy feat.

I need to get home to make dinner,

I’d hoped the walk would make me thinner.

But I need to slow down and breath the air,

as sweet as cotton candy at a fair.

My steps follow the white picket fence,

the other side makes me cold and tense.

The huge dog jumps high in the air,

his eyes white dots on his black hair.

He whimpers and walks closer to me,

his dark eyes as wide as can be.

He lifts a large paw to the gate,

as I slow down my frenzied gait.

I stop in place to pet his head,

I know I have just made my bed.

I will now be home late for dinner,

but the dog knows I’m still the winner.

I have stopped to smell the flowers,

I’m refreshed with superpowers.

I race home with new resolve,

no more time puzzles to solve.

STOP TO SMELL THE FLOWERS

coiour-my-world

Autumn Fence, Woodstock, Vermont

A walk down a country road,

not knowing what it may hold.

Leaves crunch loudly beneath my feet,

walking fast is no easy feat.

I need to get home to make dinner,

I’d hoped the walk would make me thinner.

But I need to slow down and breath the air,

as sweet as cotton candy at a fair.

My steps follow the white picket fence,

the other side makes me cold and tense.

The huge dog jumps high in the air,

his eyes white dots in his black hair.

He whimpers and walks closer to me,

his dark eyes as wide as can be.

He lifts a large paw to the gate,

as I slow down my frenzied gait.

I stop in place to pet his head,

I know I have just made my bed.

I will now be home late for dinner,

but the dog knows I’m still the winner.

I have stopped to smell the flowers,

I’m refreshed with super powers.

I race home with new resolve,

no more time puzzles to solve.

SMELL THE FLOWERS

Who bothers to stop and smell the flowers?

We’re too busy each day.

Most of us don’t even have flowers.

But we have imaginations.

We can use them to escape.

From the mundane.

From our work.

From the everyday.

To explore new dimensions.

New places.

Far away places.

The cat has it right.

Stop and smell the flowers.

Source:s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com

PARADISE IS CALLING MY NAME

What would paradise
look like to you?
I would say that it would
look like this picture.
A house in calm water.
The air smelling of flowers.
People moving in slow motion.
No need to hurry.
Warm breezes.
Sun shining.
Birds chirping.
What else could you
possibly ask for?