The Special Stranger

He makes her feel normal - very rare indeed,

With his conversations, his mannerisms, his touch,

His friendliness,

His willingness to listen.

Others treat her as if she’s poison,

With her conversations, her mannerisms, her touch,

Even though she’s always friendly,

They’re not willing to listen.

She wishes others would be like him,

Who would make her feel normal and not like poison,

Her heart thanks him,

For being that special stranger who was never afraid to listen.

Love as Santa

A fictional character once said,

Love is only a grown up version of Santa,

I think she may have had a point,

So hear me out.
   
We wait and wait for that special someone –

(Hell, I’m just waiting for a someone!)

To walk through that door,

But they never are delivered,

Maybe they go missing forever in Santa’s factory.

I don’t really believe love is like Santa,

I still believe it’s for real,
So I promise I’ll keep being good,

‘Cos I know one day it’ll be Christmas for me.

Jon’s Golden Pants

They immediately caught my eye,

With golden ties acting as his fly,

The room was dark,

Suddenly an image of five kings made the waiting people scream,

The excitement raised the roof.

Patiently we waited for another glimpse,

Of the five kings,

While storms of people made sounds of thunder with their feet,

Clapping and cheering surrounded everyone,

As the excitement raised the roof.

Finally the moment that we were waiting for came,

The leader came on stage,

He captured my eye,

By his charisma,

By the way that he was overwhelmed,

The excitement raised the roof.

And there they were,

Jon’s golden pants,

Then the excitement really raised the roof.

The Untouched Beauty

How did the earth come to pass?
     Such thoughts ponder my mind,

As we weaved through

the untouched beauty.
 

    Someone must have created such magnifical wonders,

                 Peacefully I debated the possibility of a god,

              Or was evolution the creator of

the untouched beauty.

         With such love and thought,

       Of every hill, mountain, grass and rock,

       A higher being has to be a pausable explanation for

the untouched beauty.

               That night I thought about my frequent listener,

                       And about my destiny,

                       Did they have a plan for me like they had for

the untouched beauty?