Jon wrote a poem

My talented husband writes. (Furthermore he is published!) Mostly he writes boring technical stuff and that pays the bills, but sometimes he writes books. Books about things he is interested in and just plain silly ones sometimes when he is feeling silly. Over the years he has written poetry, but at the moment he is on a roll and is  writing loads. He thought about posting it but didn’t, so I thought I would. I must stress I did not write this, I couldn’t!

The Earth is a place to play

The Earth is a place where we go out to play
And we dance upon it as if in a dream.
We live its subtle moods from day to day
And when we sleep, dreams fill the dark between.

But sometimes we may lie awake at night
And dream of someone precious whom we miss.
The vision’s blurry, like a flickering light
Our conscious thought gives just a teasing glimpse.

Yet when at last we cry ourselves to sleep
Real dreams come fully focused: crisp and sharp.
We’re back together, to laugh, to touch, to weep…
It’s just as if we never were apart.

So now I tiptoe quickly through my day
To night-time where we’re able still to play.

My friend liked this so much she read it out at a funeral, though Jon didn’t write it about death.

Here is another one:

Make each day

Arouse from bed your sleepy head of dreams
And dream a waking theme. Make each day count.
Life’s mystery, nothing’s quite what it seems…
Enjoy its magic ways. Make each day count.

A day casts little spells upon our brains
That muddle us all up. Make each day count.
We’ll never work out when it snows or rains,
But still we like to try. Make each day count.

To walk with eyes open, to see what’s true
Is part of being a child. Make each day count.
To look at things anew, like children do,
And then become beguiled. Make each day count.

Make each day count and time will shine on you.
Make this day count, and then the next one too…

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