Who am I

Maybe the gentle breeze, a zephyr, carrying the smell of wood smoke
On a winter’s morn. The whisper of tyres on a distant road.

Could I be the early morning sun warming your face, or the rush of melt
water tumbling down a mountain stream.

It has been said that I'��m the great blue sky echoing with the greeting
Cries of aerial hunters, which gladden your ears, bringing a smile to
Your lips and lights to your eyes. I

Perhaps that distant, indistinct figure who raises a friendly hand as we,
Ploughing our lonely furrow, pass like ships at sea.

That little taste of red, enjoyed while being fascinated by the mesmeric
Dancing flames of a log fire, in a Grande Maison. Ah, ��La belle...��

I may not be any of these things but if I can join you in a conspiratorial
Feeling of oneness, tranquility and exhilaration, this is who I would be.

This is excellent Raps!

Awww how beautiful! and so romantic. I enjoyed reading your poem very much.


You are who you are
Don't ever change for anyone
Listen to your heart
And everything will be all right.

Take care
Rosie

Rosie, you are a one, now don't miss understand me and keep being lovely to me because in a couple of lifetimes I MAY grow up, and then
where would you be. An angel in heaven perhaps.

Bill

Do you think I'm getting better?

Oh Bill, I'm not misunderstanding
I am merely suggesting
An angel in heaven, I may not be
No offense intended, please forgive me

Take care
Rosie

Most definitely, Bill