The Wild Child

[MaureenO]

The Wild Child


The wild child doesn’t need a clock,
she’d never hear the chime.
The wild child needs no schedule,
she lives in her own time.

The wild child calls no place a tomb,
he knows he’s free to be.
The wild child will be no man’s slave,
he knows he’s born too free.

In wildness grows this child of earth,
on wings of wind she flies.
The wild child knows no fallacy,
she has no need of lies.

On truth and freedom wild one lives
and laughs into the night.
The wild child has no fear in him,
through him shines Heaven’s light.

The wild child owns the earth and sea,
her playground is the sky.
She’ll never stay for chain or bond,
the wild child’s flown too high.

So, if she ever comes to you,
know it’s of her heart.
She knows she need not come at all.
She knew it from the start.

And never question why he’s free
Nor owes himself to none.
The wild child owns the legacy
willed to him by the Son.

​

 

[L.A.B.]

OK, my turn.

I've pondered your script, and those words rang true. They cast no doubt, what I see in you. Your heart is good, and your spirit strong. There is no hesitation tween right and wrong.

Other words Maureen, deviating from my simplistic style; I like where you live between your ears and your heart.

 

[Lone Wolf]

Mo, you do great things with words.

Flight

Down deep and all is night

a struggle to keep

To move to the light

turns and spirals close and tight

Efforts, moves to gain the light

All here, dark as night

down deep where all is dark

to move ever upward to wards

that great light

Now that burning bright

at last, at last



Through crimson and Royal blue

Break through to that great light

Sophomoric at best, but at least that effort.

lw

 

[MaureenO]

Mo, you do great things with words.

Flight

Down deep and all is night

a struggle to keep

To move to the light

turns and spirals close and tight

Efforts, moves to gain the light

All here, dark as night

down deep where all is dark

to move ever upward to wards

that great light

Now that burning bright

at last, at last



Through crimson and Royal blue

Break through to that great light

Sophomoric at best, but at least that effort.

lw

That's brilliant, Papa! I like to be able to see, touch, taste, smell and feel what I'm reading. To me, that's the mark of a true writer--to have his readers "see" his writings as a movie that his readers are living in.

Mo

 

[MaureenO]

OK, my turn.

I've pondered your script, and those words rang true. They cast no doubt, what I see in you. Your heart is good, and your spirit strong. There is no hesitation tween right and wrong.

Other words Maureen, deviating from my simplistic style; I like where you live between your ears and your heart.

This is not a simplistic style. It's alive and breathing.

Mo Anam (((hugs)))

 

[Lone Wolf]

That's brilliant, Papa! I like to be able to see, touch, taste, smell and feel what I'm reading. To me, that's the mark of a true writer--to have his readers "see" his writings as a movie that his readers are living in.

Mo

Mo, Your a sweet Heart! You'd say nice things in the face of a hurricane! heh

(((hugs)))

Papa.

 

[MaureenO]

Mo, Your a sweet Heart! You'd say nice things in the face of a hurricane! heh

(((hugs)))

Papa.

Oh Papa, there are times I've the tongue of an adder.

Mo (((hugs)))

 

[Lone Wolf]

Oh Papa, there are times I've the tongue of an adder.

Mo (((hugs)))

Heh.

Who doesn't. I'll bet you are great at that too.

(((hugs)))

Papa