Too many ideas

All of them rushing

Me first, me first

Take the time

Not enough time

Too many ideas

Me first, me first

They each call

Wanting their turn

Stepping onstage

Me first, me first

Not enough time

Wait, just wait

To many ideas

All calling, stepping forward

Wanting recognition

Wanting a turn

Wanting a chance


Just like me

I want a turn

Want recognition

Want a turn

Just one chance

Just a chance

When is it my turn

To step forward

To take a moment

Just for me

My turn


Snowstorm Peace

Gently flowing down,

Fluffy and soft and moving from slow to fast.

Tree limbs are lined,

But instead of skeletal looking,

They are blurred along the edges softly.

But underneath the gentle facade

Icy sheets await.

Death has never looked so quiet and peaceful.