Monday, October 17, 2016



Magic In Every Breeze
By
Patricia Shannon



Nature touches me with a warm embrace,
a soft breeze that brushes my face.
The crown of every tree breathes and breathes,
there's a whisper through the rustle of the leaves.

A gentle breeze blows over the nearby ocean,
and sets the water surface into motion.
Tiny wavelets are dancing away,
here and there creating a fine water spray.

The wind carries the scent of flowers towards me,
giving me a sense of happiness and glee.
It is a glorious moment in time,
the abundance of colours and the smell of roses and thyme.

There is something special in every single breeze,
like the flower pollen, that make you sneeze,
but most of all, what the wind is trying to tell
is that every breeze has its own magic spell.


.-.-.-.




I Am The Ghost Of
By
Patricia Shannon


I am the ghost of Patrick Magee,
Britain's future is not for me.

I am the ghost of Mahatma Ghandi,
my children could never see.

.-.-.

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