Covert Novelist

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Twas late, with shadows all round

Crunchy leaves lay on the ground

I pulled my coat close feeling the bite

The first signs of Autumn amid starlight

I set my gaze upon the ink black sky

Not a soul to be found anywhere near by

My delight was surely complete

As the heavens glowed I took a seat

Far above twinkle a myriad stars

Some seemed close and others so far

A delightful conversation above

Perhaps a gentle whisper of love

Many declarations bold and bright

Proclaimed so proudly in twinkling light

If only I could understand the language they spoke

Perhaps a story of innocence bespoke

Stories as ancient as the passing of time

Captured then displayed so sublime

Perhaps they twinkle a whisper of things yet to come

A symphony of music joyous and welcome

A feast for our eyes to behold

As many stories before us unfold.














If Sidewalks could talk!  The tales they could tell.

Location, Location, Location!

Could you imagine being a sidewalk in New York City?  Ouch! Talk about getting walked on!

A voice far away pipes up, “I am debonaire suave sophisticated, “I see stars!” on the Hollywood walk of fame.”

“Put your hands on me, ooh la la, your famous “hand prints” leave me breathless, have you no shame?”

“While you may have seen much, I have weathered storms, witnessed great romances, and watched the delicate bud of youth blossom”,  the oldest of sidewalks pipes up.”

Another says, “I need an upgrade, i fear i may choke.  A weed eater will never do! Those cracks, weeds and grass have nearly overcome me,  I need new!”

“I am happy, i see children aplenty, painting with chalk, and I have hop scotches galore!”

“Well, I am mysterious!  I am covered with chalk outlines.”

“You fool!  I am not a stove, why are you cracking eggs on me?  I am sweltering down here!”

Indeed, if sidewalks could talk!





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