I wish I’d learned to write poetry.
To weave intricate rhymes unexpectedly
leading to twists and turns of phrase
expressing realness and beauty eloquently.
I wish I could bring life to a canvas.
By dappling water with a flick of the wrist
turning burnt umber and cerulean blue into
Bob Rossian trees and paths in the mist.
I wish I were good at singing.
That my voice could lift pure clear air
in dancing, floating notes packed with meaning
serene, big, soft, answering every care.
I wish I could pen a great story.
Rich with metaphor, dazzling prose, extraordinary
in its telling of feats and adventures
and an ending ripe with tears and glory.
But I am only me, with minute talents.
Small gifts, given freely.
I do what I can.
Grace & Peace,