A Place For Me

There is a special place in life, that needs my humble skill,
A certain job I'm meant to do, which no one else can fulfill..

The time will be demanding, the pay is not too good,
And I wouldn't change it for a moment, even if I could....

There is a special place in life, a goal I must attain,
A dream that I must follow because I won't be back again...

There is a mark that I must leave, however small it seems to be...
A legacy of love for those who follow after me...

There is a special place in life, that only I may share...
A little path that bears my name, awaiting me somewhere...

There is a hand that I must hold, a word that I must say,
A smile that I must give, for there are tears to blow away...

There is a special place in life that I was meant to fill...
A sunny spot where flowers grow, upon a windy hill...

There's always a tomorrow and the
best is yet to be, for somewhere

in this world, I know there
is a place for me....

© Grace E Easley

It's In The Air Again...

When Mother Lights the Fire…


I feel it coming on again
In my spirit and my mind
This affliction comes over me
Each year about this time
With warning signs clear as day
Same thing everytime
You’d think an old hand such as I
Would learn to read the sign

But I miss it as I always do
Caught up in day to day
Before I see it, the time’s at hand
And the Warm Girl’s slipped away
But She leaves for me, a gift She does
For a poor boy’s needs are dire
Nothing leaves me more content
Than when Mother lights the fire

She strikes a match and touches tender
Much smoke but still no flame
A little wilted for their cause
The world remains the same
In one starting spark the colors flow
And spread along the ground
They creep in silence as they go
Without a single sound

The Ironwoods and the Asters
Take the striking blow
Honeysuckle and briar bushes
Are the very next to go
I miss the starting spark, it seems
Busy in life’s quagmire
Somehow I fail to notice
When Mother lights the fire

Looking up the hillside
I see the subtle flame
It can’t be time already
Seems Summer’s hardly came

Pale yellows on the ashes
Timid pinks on sassafras
The dark blood red of sumacs
Orange blazes upon the maples
Burnt yellow of the hickory
Pale reds of dogwoods glow
All of these and many more
When Mother lights the fire

Woods stand in glory
Dressed in best attire
And sing the colors of Autumn
When Mother lights the fire


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