Anger and Forgiveness II

When I am full of anger
I think in anger's terms
Part of my existing life
Is full of anger's germs

Nothing seems a perfect right
Most of things gone wrong
I get such vengeful feelings
When I carry anger along

When I think of forgiveness
I think in forgiveness' terms
My life is held in gentle hands
Softly in those twists and turns

Very few are perfect wrongs
So many things are right
Show me God forgiveness' face
So I can live in light

poem by Ray Andrews
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Holiday Chocolate

Chocolate- I am smitten
You are there for me
When no one cares
Or no one dares

You fill up my life
With ice cream, pie and cake
I'd even have you on vegetables
Tis' love for goodness sake

You taste soo good in candy
And great in truffles too
I love to munch and chew away
Happy hands coated in goo

Your sugar can make me crazy
I end up very wired
Flying around the house
A rocket: chocolate fired

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poem by Ray Andrews
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Hot Chocolate

Sitting in the coffeeshop
Looking for my friend
People lining up
Awaiting warm service on a cold day

Amidst the que a four year old
Busily waiting by mom
Chill air from the door cooling him
And all the others around

I saw him take a look at me
And turned to see my friend
When I looked back toward the boy
He was looking at me again

Probably needing attention
Ignored along the line
A grandfatherly smile and gesture made
I hoped it would make him fine

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poem by Ray Andrews
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My Neighbor, Less Than Two

Like a miniature clown across the street
You can't help but love him-he's awfully sweet
It's hard to fault him, he's less than two
Full of chuckles and devilment, his name's Andrew

When he sees us walk on the street outside
He pounds his windows-we've no place to hide
With a smile and a laugh we're forced to go in
A circus of happiness can now begin

He loves to be cuddled and lifted high
I laugh out loud-my back gives a sigh
Chattering and yammering about his own things
We hide the confusion his talking brings

A young Tom Edison he loves the light
He'll point out a fixture, and yell 'My Yight'
He stands on his toys to reach the switch
And on goes the Yight, without a hitch

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poem by Ray Andrews
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