Laid back or laziness

                                          A laid-back life is like a breeze that moves the willow tree, It keeps you calm and gives you room to breathe and just be free. But laziness is like a fog that keeps you in your bed, It takes away the open road and leaves a cloud instead. The peaceful mind enjoys the sun and watches clouds roll past, It knows just when to take a break and when to move at last. The lazy heart forgets to plant the seeds that make us grow, And misses out on all the joy that busy people know. One is a choice to slow things down and let your spirit rest, To look around at what you have and feel that you are blest. The other is a heavy heavy weight that holds your feet in place, And keeps you from the happy path and finishes the race. So rest your bones beneath the shade when all your work is through, But do not let the sleepy dust take over all...
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Misfits

From roots of shared soil, I am the strange vine,

A different bloom, a skewed and strange design.

They speak the family language, steeped in lore,

But my tongue trips on phrases they adore.


My laughter is a chord that strikes a little flat,

A shadow in the sun where all the others sat.

I trace the branches of the common tree,

And see the fruit they bear, so unlike me.


The patterns of their lives, a woven tapestry,

But I'm a single, unpicked thread, wild and free.

My gifts, to them, are strange and out of place,

A lonely star in their familiar space.


I listen to their murmurs, soft and deep,

A language of unspoken promises they keep.

And though I love the echoes of their sound,

I hear a melody that I, alone, have found.


It calls to me from pastures far away,

To walk a wilder path, a brighter, different day.

They cannot know the landscape of my mind,

The secret doors and pathways I designed.


They see a shadow where they want a form,

A quiet, lonely harbor in their storm.

But in my solitude, a strength has grown,

The proud and simple courage of my own.


So let me be the misfit, standing tall,

The black sheep that refuses to fall.

For in this difference, a new grace takes its hold,

A richer story waiting to be told.

I'll build my own home, a place to call my own,

And on that fertile ground, I will be known.

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