Little Things

Take notice of the ‘little things’,
You carry forth in life.
For really, they are not so small,
Their impact makes one wise.

The time you scrub a cooking pot,
To wash and make it clean.
Preparing it for future use,
To hold nice food to eat.

The spontaneous walk you take,
To breathe in nature’s air.
You share a smile with a passer-by,
Expressing love and care.

The humble life you choose to live,
Letting life take its course.
Confident of God’s gracious plans,
In this life that is short.

Including those who do not fit,
The current status quo.
Like Jesus who was welcoming,
To tax collectors so.

Forgiving those who’ve done you wrong,
Forgiving yourself too.
Wishing them all the best in life,
Wishing the same for you.

Indeed, notice the ‘little things’,
You choose to do in life.
For these things are exhalted grand,
And really make you thrive.

By Elicia Fyle

Be sure to take a rest

Eyes Connecting

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Eyes connecting through the air,

Like wind connects to leaves.

The mask enables us to share,

A stare of which we’re pleased.

I gaze into your gentle eyes,

And know just where you’ve been.

Your difficulties multiplied,

Yet peace is still therein.

Captivating is the word,

I’ve never seen the like.

Navigating through the herd,

When train peak times do strike.

At times our eyes do disconnect,

Embarrassed by the gaze.

But then an interesting effect,

Combines optical rays.

Your stop arrives and you alight,

You smile through those sweet eyes.

The day my phone had not my sight,

My eyes gained a great prize.

By Elicia Fyle

Poetic Genetics

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Genetics is a growing field,
The knowledge of our genes.
Discovering our DNA,
And what the findings mean.

How one gene correllates to what,
Our eye colour will be,
How the next gene will set the scene,
For our ethnicity.

It’s now a well-known fact to say,
That gene faulties occur.
These gene variants have been linked,
To various cancers.

Breast cancer’s often classified,
By BRCA mutations.
The BRCA gene is different to,
Healthy comparisons.

The neuroblastoma cancer,
Affects children, though rare,
The MYCN gene is amplified
This knowledge steers healthcare.

By understanding pathogenic
Gene variations,
We can direct many patients,
To effective treatments.

Genetics is a thriving field,
There’s so much more to learn.
This knowledge leads to great healthcare,
And new treatments are earned.

By Elicia Fyle

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I Will Choose You

When struggles come into my life,
When difficulties brew.
I will take heart, I will have peace,
Dear Lord I will choose you.

To live with you in poverty,
Or without you in wealth.
Dear Lord, I’d be a poor woman,
And trust you’ll give me health.

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego,
All three chose you, Dear Lord.
Therefore the fire could not burn,
Your grace was their reward.

Oh God, your presence overwhelms!
Oh Lord, I am in awe!
Through rattling and raging storms,
You’re with me evermore.

Father you have the final say,
You’re just, and you are wise.
Our perfect Saviour Jesus died,
But indeed, He did rise.

In times of harvest, growth, and crops,
In times of driest grounds.
I thank you for your presence Lord,
Acknowledge you’re around.

When things are great and when they’re not,
I know just what to do.
I’ll put you first above all things,
Dear Lord, I will choose you.

Elicia Fyle

Ancient Streets

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A fictional love poem. I hope you enjoy reading.

Ancient streets, modern beats.

His dance was timid, two left feet.

His silent confidence shone through,

My interest in him grew.

Naturally, I could see,

Him filled with glee, his moves carefree.

I reminisced on how we met,

Strangest encounter yet.

It was three years ago or so,

The morning dragged, and I was slow.

I realised I overslept,

Out of my bed I leapt.

The time was eight and I was late.

I grabbed my coat, ran out the gate.

I rushed along the ancient street,

And fell over my feet.

Luckily, I was free,

From any major injury.

My hands were bruised, my spirit down,

I hear a gentle sound.

A voice so deep, yet calm and sweet.

He stood tall on the ancient street.

He offered help for me to stand,

He kindly gave a hand.

From that point on, we’d often talk,

On my commute, we’d often walk.

I didn’t realise it then,

That we’d be more than friends.

Back to the street party story,

The dancing ends, he sits by me.

We gaze into each other’s eyes.

My stomach, butterflies.

From that point on, everything changed,

Our lives completely rearranged.

We faced a new reality,

The rest is history.

By Elicia Fyle