WORDS

There are words he wishes 
he could carry with him
and hold out to others as gifts, 
and words made of wind 
and sunshine that settle 
inside his life like little friends.
There are words in books 
that break out into songs and dances
and don't seem to care 
if he's there or not, 
and never-ending words 
with never-ending meanings 
that make sentences slide
down hills to the sea 
where they disappear 
and leave him standing 
and shaking his head.

JUST FOR FUN

Is this a school,
or is it some stones and boards
the universe brought
to this special place?
Is this a room,
or were the walls and windows
set up by the sun
so it can shine in?
Is this a chair,
or is it  a seat for the air
to sit on when no one's here?
Are these my hands,
or are they the helpers
of the whole world?
Are these my words,
or are they thoughts
the cosmos created
on this computer screen
just for fun?

HER BIRTHDAY

It was a day when stars 
sat in special positions
above them, 
and pieces of sunshine 
were seen to be resting 
on their shoulders,
and all their thoughts 
were warm flames 
for their lives. 
It was a day 
when doing anything 
seemed like something supernatural, 
when even sitting beside her
became a mystery 
and a miracle.   

EASY HAPPINESS

The music made him happy--
as happy, say, as a sky 
covered with comforting clouds, 
or a wagon waiting for a child 
to choose it for a ride, 
or even the pencil 
proudly lying beside him 
as he listens to the music. 
You can make life a problem, 
he knows, or you can 
carry it with you contentedly 
like an unsurpassed gift. 
He gets a lift 
even from looking at the fake
yellow flowers on his desk,
or from following the unfolding 
of a sentence as he reads it. 
Even dust on a sill 
sends him a message 
that starts him smiling.