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My Place

The sight is marvelous

Detached from worldly

Melancholy

Flowers as bright

Flowers as red

As my mother’s

Rosary

Free from all

Which brings anguish

Where no man

Is viewed as a

Curmudgeon

This is a place

A place, I see

With perfection draped

From yard to yard

In this place

Beauty is not only seen

It is felt

Felt in the bird’s song

Felt in the courteous nod

From the gentle passerby

Felt in the innocence

Of the young children

And their vibrant smiles