I have finally discovered how to use markdown; thanks to 
The poem below is my celebration of this accomplishment and to thank all those new friends I have discovered here on steemit. Thank you for being kind, generous and concerned. God bless you all real good.
The poem is a gift to you; drink it, eat it, sing it, tune it to rhyme with your beating heart, dance to it, and deal with it.
The Empty Picture Frame
There's a whisper in the air,
The sun is out, the way is clear;
There's a flutter on the trees;
The sky is ripe, the season's crimson lips
Will kiss the flower tips.
There are children in the sea,
Drowning laughter with belts and needles.
There are radios playing songs
To rocking chairs creaking to nothing but air.
There are dying gods in my room,
Begging for a piece of flesh, for blood,
For water, for air, for anything but death.
They are here, they are there
And they are everywhere.
There's a whisper in the air
And children in the sea;
There are dying gods in my room,
sucking needles needing blood.
The sun is out and the radio is playing songs;
The sky is ripe and rocking chairs
Are here, there and everywhere.
ORIGINAL CONTENT
