“We all need more solitude sundays.”

It takes effort to make it to forever.

There’s too much hurt in loving but too little life in not.

It’s not songs that remind me of lost lovers. It’s poems.

With each daydream she weaved her pastel heart into the sky.

Spring is poetry poured into nature.

I dreamed in skies of blue before september stole all the light.

She loves her lonely moments the silence away from the crowds, when its just her daydreaming.

Her afternoon tea is a fountain of daydreams.

Night time thoughts lead nowhere but into melancholy.

Lets breath magic into each other.

In a world of lost souls how could I ever find a home?

Summer left me like an almost lover.

If I make him my home, will I lose the home inside myself?

Every drop of her gin held a lost world of night sky dances.

I feel blurry as a reflection in water.

Kiss the words from my lips like a love poem.

Before you check out for the weekend, check in with someone you love.

The soul of one who serves God always swims in joy, always keeps holiday, is always in her palace of jubilation, ever singing with fresh ardor and fresh pleasure a new song of joy and love.

I tell myself I can’t have off days.

Why has there never been a holiday where peace is celebrated all throughout the world?

Everyday is a holiday with me.

A holiday isn’t a holiday, without plenty of freedom and fun.

I was early taught to work as well as play. My life has been one long, happy holiday; Full of work and full of play- I dropped the worry on the way- And God was good to me everyday.

It’s the holidays that mean to spread love and cheer to all who are near.