Listen.

Shhh listen to the breeze that rushes through the trees.

Hear the sound of the earth, as she giggles in mirth.

Feel the fire of passion from the flaming sun

and the diamond sprinkles from the earths mum.

Watch as the moon disappears all too soon.

See the stars that are gone, dead for so long.

Watch the bloom that does flower,

a tiny Bee has that power.

Feel the tides as they move in time with the moon.

Hear the wings of the flies,  dragons that fill the skies,

of the birds that sing a tune of no words,

and the flies of the butter, that create such a flutter.

Hear the rain as she drops, don’t ask her to stop.

Feel the roar of skies, watch it pass by,

as the lightening strikes the invisible kites.

Feel the world in your heart, stop watching take part.

Hear the songs of the small, watch the flowers have a ball,

feel the bugs as they climb the magnificent wall.

Feel the clouds on your skin, you can be King,

hear the world sing, of the love it can bring.

Karen Hayward (c) 2015.

The lions whisper.

Dear Teacher,

Today I trust you with my world,

so please, take care of my little girl.

She worked so hard to make it here

to fight back the terrible fear.

It’s hard for you to understand,

if you’ll only listen, I know you can.

Anxiety is no ones friend,

but most of all it’s not pretend.

Too scared to move,

you doubt it’s true,

if only for a moment, I wish you knew.

It’s not a coat or a badge of pride,

it’s a crippling fear, deep down inside.

It wears no face, it has no laugh,

it’s not tattooed there upon a scarf.

So hold her hand, take deep breaths,

she’s using up all that’s left.

That little whisper, is a lions roar,

don’t wait until, she can take no more.

Today I trust you with my world,

so please, take care of my brave, brave girl.