VISTAS: An awareness of a range of time, events, or subjects. A broad Mental View.
June 15

On The Wings Of A Butterfly

Your friendship is special
Like the flowers that bloom
Or when a butterfly emerges
From within its cocoon....

You remind me of that butterfly
Loving and free
Bright and colorful
For the world to see...

We will share the sunshine and rainbows
Sometimes, the rain and the snow
We'll stand together thru it
While the cold winds blow...

When the time is right
We won't stop to ask "why"
Our friendship will take flight
On the wings of a butterfly...

- © Christine McClimans -


"Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control. These three alone lead to sovereign power."
- Lord Alfred Tennyson -


"Far away in the sunshine are my highest inspirations. I may not reach them, but I can look up and see the beauty, believe in them and try to follow where they lead."
- Louisa May Alcott -


today I thought of you, not long, not once, twice by thrice maybe more
today I thought of you, of all the feelings brought, nice, buried deep within my core
today I thought of you, of all the things diced and sliced, leaving my heart still sore


the pounding swollen pain of summer invades
the thought and mind of what should or could be done with the day


there was a chill in the air
smoke and fumes filled
noise loud, cheers louder
excitement, tension
then it was over


come to me with no intent
hide from me nothing of importance
hold for me my heart
and begin with a new start


When the mind shuts down
and sleep comes along
silence leaves the body limp
floating in a sea of black
peace and turmoil fight
for dominance within thy dreams


Two thoughts, lingering, lost
merging to one?

Questions abound, running wild
hiding the truth?

Life's quest, searching forever
lingering unfound?


place the pen in trembling hands
drag it softly over lined paper
leave your mark for me to see

lost in some dresser drawer
forgotten it lies until the day that you die
a reminder to those left behind that you were there

on a cold and dark night
it's removed from it's hiding site
cold fingers carefully unfold

the words are faded
as is your memory
but the yellowed paper is a reminder

a proof that you were here.
a stored reminder
that I will always hold dear


Get pleasure out of much as you can. Nobody ever died from pleasure.
- Sol Hurok -