A POEM

When sad she brings the thunder

And her tears, they bring the rain.

When ill she feeds a poison

To us all to fell her pain.

Her smiles they bring the sunshine,

And the laughter and the wind,

And the birds they go on singing

And the world is whole again.

"Smile, sweet Sunday,"

Wednesday whispered in her ear.

"The birds need your love 

So they can lift their wings."

~Alethea Kontis~

"Enchanted"