Amie’s Window

With eyes partially closed and a surrendering smile

as if she were awaiting love’s first innocent caress,

Amie sits by her favorite window in anticipation

of the shear splendor of God’s awakening dawn

and the warm engulfing embrace of morning’s first light.

Amie’s eyes open wider and her smile becomes broader

as the rhapsody of life playing on outside her window

grows more intense with each passing moment.

The birds sing their welcoming tribute to daybreak

in concert with the melodic sound of rustling leaves

as a warm breeze gently whispers through them.


With one tiny frail hand braced against the sill

Amie leans slightly forward in her little wheel chair

as a dainty finger with candy apple red nail polish

from her other small hand cautiously pushes aside

the life sustaining tether she has grown weary of

just to allow the consuming aromas of spring

permeate  every tiny recess of her pale nose.

Overtaken by the heavy floral fragrances of

Jasmine and Gardenia clinging to the damp air,

Amie falls back in her chair with eyes closed

and a faint, but rapturous grin on her face.


The sound of people chatting and laughing

as they hustle along the sidewalk below

in concert with the distant rumbling noise

of cars whizzing up and down the highway

suddenly fills Amie’s awaiting little ears

and her big brown almond shaped eyes

pop open to investigate what is going on

below her window this beautiful morning.

She stares longingly at a group of children

impatiently waiting for their school bus

wishing she could one day be standing

on the corner waiting like other kids.


Amie hears a familiar voice behind her say:

“Okay kiddo it is time for your last treatment.”

As the nurse turns Amie’s chair toward the door,

Amie sadly glances back at her little window

wondering if she will ever look through it again.

Several hours later a gentle wisp of breeze catches

the end of one of the maroon curtains hanging

alongside Amie’s little window to the world

making the curtain curl and appear to wave

as if it were trying to beckon someone closer.

From a small hospital bed  across the room

the weakened voice of a small child calls out:

“I will definitely see you tomorrow  Mr. Window.”


Unsung Heroes Of The Predawn Light

We are the unsung heroes of the predawn light.

No we may never have fought in a great war,

or saved a soul from the snapping jaws of death.

People wave to us, but few know who we are

and most on a good days run could care less.

Like the organ grinder’s monkey from days of old,

we have been repeatedly trained to do a task.

We do a job few would even consider doing

and most would not even attempt to try.

A job burdened with ever growing responsibility

due to the minutia of a ever expanding bureaucracy.

A grossly undervalued, underappreciated profession

designated part-time by thoughtless administrations

that mouth how important we all are once a year

only to persecute us for every trifling thing later.

If you are lucky enough to survive a number of years

without resigning or becoming a sacrificial lamb

on the altar of a fearful self-serving public face,

you will get a tiny pension for your devoted service.

We are the unsung heroes of the predawn light.

The tolerant souls that routinely put up with

a few rude demanding manipulative parents

and their insolent misbehaving little darlings

just to be able to serve the greater majority

of decent well-meaning thoughtful parents

and the precious treasures of tomorrow

they have temporarily entrusted to us.

Like a hamster running on a little wheel,

we go around in circles every single day,

but unlike the hamster we must summon

every instinct and learned skill to insure

every turn we make is executed flawlessly.

We are kept aloft on our spinning wheel

by the deliberate hands of a caring heart

and the many small souls seated behind us

that come to trust us not to make a mistake.

We are the one person in their little lives

that are not allowed to ever let them down

for neither of us may be able to live with it.

We are their school bus drivers…

Written By Poet and Bus Driver Kim Morrison dedicated to fellow school bus drivers everywhere.

The Room


A room once filled with life and joyful sound

now stands silent in total darkness.

It’s walls are weighted heavy with sadness,

the child that used to live there can’t be found.

His room looks terribly bleak and dusty.

The smile on the toy clown is upside down.

The tattered toy animals wear a frown.

The child’s room feels cold and empty.

The unloved little boy has long since gone.

He now lives with God in a peaceful place.

No longer will tears stream down his small face.

By tomorrow all his toys will be gone.

In the bare room the rocking horse resides.

All twisted and bent with marks on its sides.


M is for the many things she does for you.

O is for offering a hug every time you needed it.

T is for the thanks she did not always receive.

H is for the help she was always there to give you.

E is for being the most excellent mom of all.

R is for raising you into the person you become

Heart Arresting Beauty

Discretion tells me I should turn my eyes away,

but with mouth agape I cannot help but gaze

upon the heart arresting beauty now before me.

Why does she not shy away or attempt to conceal

the ravishing  bouquet of her all from my stare?

How could she not notice me just standing there?

Does she not see me or does she simply not care?

She’s a vision sightless eyes would yearn to see,

a goddess beyond the scope of  man’s conception.

Her flowing sparkling auburn hair whispers

eloquently to her beauty in the warm breeze

occasionally hiding one of a huge pair of

opulent all to consuming brown eyes.

Her visually captivating voluptuous body

would anguish a master Renaissance artist

for no brush strokes or mixture of oils

could quite capture the essence of her design.

Those perfectly shaped succulent milky white…

Oh!  Why does that accursed demon’s tormenting ring

always awaken me just before I get to the best part.

The Old Hat

Wrinkled, worn, and weather-beaten

one old hat sits aloft a dusty shelf.

A witness to individual history,

a vision of days gone by

of both good and bad times,

a garment of many memories.

Like a King’s crown,

the hat once sat cocked to the right

over a stern, but wise brow.

Well used and sweat stained,

but worn with dignity and pride

by one unyielding individualist.

A common man by all accounts

of uncommon quality and character.

A man who never lost focus

on the true widgets of life

even when it was at a cost.

A man who once owned :

a pocket full of dreams,

a desire for pure freedom,

a true lust for life,

and one old hat.

A Price To High

With tears streaming down her face

a mother sits staring at a framed picture

of a young man who answered the call

Wondering… Why my son? …Why my son?

A young boy wearing a U.S. Army cap

valiantly tries to fend off a storm of emotion.

Overtaken by grief he succumbs to the pain.

A down pour of tears flood his once innocent face

as he wrestles with the heart wrenching reality

of his mom never returning home.

A tiny little girl pulls on the dress

of a trembling teary eyed lady dressed in black

standing next to a flag draped coffin

Asking… Where’s daddy mommy?  …Where’s daddy?

A proud Vietnam War veteran

with tears steadily filling his eyes

and a crippling wound to his heart

shakily stands up on one prosthetic limb

to offer one final salute to his fallen son.

With a hand above his brow he utters the words:

A price to high Semper Fi.

A Former Students Words Made Me Cry

When this old bus driver read the words below written by a former middle school bus student of mine,  I was left speechless with tears literally flowing from my eyes.

Truly Mr. Kim is one of the greatest people I know. For so many people don’t understand how much Mr. Kim has done for quite a lot of people. To me I never looked at Mr. Kim as just my bus driver. He is and always will be, a helping hand, listening ears, an amazing poet, and most importantly,  my best friend. Each school day; morning & afternoon, I was greeted by a welcoming smile and warm heart. To me he didn’t just deliver me safety to and from school, but he brought me courage & strength to keep pushing myself past what I had believed I could have never reached before.  Mr. Kim was always there for me when nobody else was. His wonderful words of wisdom brought new inspiration to my view. Mr. Kim was a loyal friend. As he always keep his promises and knew how to cheer me up when I was having a pretty bad day. Many days I would help sweep the bus steps as he would read one of his marvelous poems or would give advice on my many drawings. Each day that I spent on the bus, not one moment do I remember Mr. Kim frowning or treating one student differently from another. He gave each student respect, even though many never payed attention.  Mr. Kim has done so many things for me, we’d be here forever if I had named them all. One thing I shall never forget about Mr. Kim is his outstanding personality. He showed me how beautiful the world can be, if you just push yourself and keep trying. ” Keep trying ” he’d always tell me when I grow frustrated,  due to the fact that I couldn’t get something right. Every word that Mr. Kim had spoken to me, was another piece of inspiration that I could incorporate into my art work. During my 8th grade year I began to grow sick, for a week at a time I would be missing school and returning the week after. I was always so happy to ride the bus after being gone for some time.  As I knew that Mr. Kim would greet me with a smile and say ” Well where ya been stranger?.” All I could do was laugh as even when I struggled through that day, I knew I still had Mr. Kim to help cheer me up when I returned to the bus that afternoon. When he had told me that ” He was going to try for another route that was shorter and less stress on him”, I knew it was for the best. Yet I knew that if he did,  I would starting my morning from that point on, knowing Mr. Kim wouldn’t greet me with his welcoming smile. The last day before before spring break, I handed Mr. Kim a letter that with ever word wrote down, I had meant each phrase written on that folded piece of paper. Not one single word was just something off the the top of my head. Each word came from within my heart. For 3 years, I had the privilege to have such an incredible bus driver.  I wouldn’t trade those three years for all the riches the world could offer me. They mean so much to me. When I had returned the day after spring break, I was overjoyed to see Mr. Kim sitting in the driver’s seat. Words couldn’t describe the expression on my face. Even though I am no longer riding my favorite middle school bus (03-23), I still will watch out my window as Mr. Kim drives by. Only 4 months into my freshman year and I began to grow very ill. Due to it, I haven’t stepped into the high school since the day before Christmas break. Even though I am no longer in the middle school, Mr. Kim’s words of wisdom allow me to push the pain away and enjoy each and every moment I have. For Mr. Kim is the true ” Rising Star” here. He’s done so much. I am and always will be thankful that I got the privilege to meet such a unbelievable person. For no word could describe how thankful I am. Mr. Kim has gone above the words “Great Expectations” and soared higher than we could imagine. He’s one in an a million.

Remember My Love…

Oh John! My John!

How my heart longs

to see your kind eyes,

to look upon that boyish smile,

and hear that booming laugh.

I yearn to have your body next to mine

to feel the comfort of your loving embrace,

to have your strong arms wrapped around me,

and to hear the sound of your reassuring voice.

Like the scent of you in our home,

the pain of your loss still lingers.

My heart will always ache for you

for our love was without boundaries.

Oh Mary! My Mary!

How I wish I could be there

to touch your beautiful face,

to wipe away all your tears,

to erase your every fear.

I wish I had the chance

to tell you how much I love you,

to kiss you as if I knew it were the last,

and wrap you in my arms like never before.

I would walk away from heaven’s gate

just to gaze at your lovely face

and lock you in a never-ending embrace.

My Love! My Mary!

Original canvas painting by the Rising Star herself and the poem she inspired

The young girl that inspired my poem “The Rising Star” also called “A poem for Mia” done this painting on canvas to go with the piece. Now you all now why I called this talented kid a “Rising Star”

100rising start

The Rising Star

(A Poem for Mia)

As I look up into the vast darkness

gazing at the celestial masterpiece

adorning the clear night sky,

my eyes scan the heavenly bodies

in search of not the well known,

but for the one yet to become.

The quaint unassuming star

hidden in a forest of brilliance

unknowingly unique by design,

unaware of its own potential,

and uncertain of its own place

in the divine scheme of light.

Only the discerning eye can see

this spectacle of light waiting to be.

The captivating glimmer of promise

from afar of a unknown rising star.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,”

wonder not what you are,

but all you dream to be.