And nights jerked to day;

Black has changed to white,

White to dismal gray.

Water stings like shot,

Paralyzing skin;

Vicious wind bites through,

Reaching bone within.

Senses dulled from hurt,

Far before the rain;

Welcome the relief,

Wash away the stain.

Standing tall and still,

Looking up; eyes closed;

Drown the haunting thoughts,

Fresh, and still exposed.

Arms outstretched defied,

Warning strengths abound;

Tears burn paths of warmth;

Hope has just been found.

Lightening strikes swift,

Daring faith to stand;

Laughter roars out strong,

Meaning has been fanned.

Clouds of doubt disband,

Rain gives way to sun;

Eyes look straight ahead,

Time to mourn is done.

Drawing the face on the pumpkin to carve.

Ripping open the first present under the tree.

Blowing out the birthday candles.

Clipping playing cards to your bicycle frame with wooden cloths pins and taking off.

Sitting in front of a fan with a friend saying silly things in funny voices.

Connecting the top of the orange hot wheels track to the dinning room table and letting em fly.

Sneaking up, and kicking the can as hard as you can, releasing your friends from captivity.

Taking your mother’s sheets and blankets and turning your room into a secret hideaway.

Pumping that BB gun one last time with all your might.

Sitting on the floor with your best friend with Barbie doll cloths as far as the eye can see.

Looking over the top of your red Battle Ship holder willing the location of their destroyer into your brain.

Walking through the neighborhood in 8 inches of snow to the bus stop, and taking part in the biggest snowball battle in the history of the neighborhood.

Chasing Lightening Bugs around the back yard with a mason jar in one hand and a gold lid in the other.

The entire family sitting down for a home cooked meal in the evening with everyone talking and laughing.

Friday nights at the skating rink.

Playing Monopoly for four hours.

Having a sleepover at your house with 10 of your closest friends.

Being the fastest at Pong in your family.

Sitting in the middle of the street marking out the hopskip lines.

Laying on the floor reading the funnies on Sunday afternoon.

Remembering back to when your Mother, your Father, your two brothers and you, were actually a family.

Such a sweet little girl
Her blonde ringlets bouncing so
Are those bruises on her arm just there
No, must be mud

So much black that boy wears
Those things in his face must be painful
Eyes black as night shine red like fire
Must be the pollen

That man is so dirty
Those clothes surely need a good washing
Why is he holding that cup towards me
He must be mistaken

How can a car be so stuffed
That family must be moving to a new place
There are only two tires on that car
They must be moving

Gracious, that lady is so thin
I wish I could be that same size
There sure is a lot of food on her plate
Must be a model

Those children are sleeping
What a cute teddy bear she is holding
It must be cooler in the backseat of that car
It must be cooler

The storm is really blowing now
He’ll be home in time for dessert, I’m sure
I can’t hear my show for that noisy fire whistle
They must be joking