Tags
dreams, faith, family, fearless, grace, life, love, relationship, restless, spirit, truth, wandering, wisdom

forgive
I can’t be made to bend
the secret is my mother’s
was whispered once
for seven days ~
between the flag and floor
and there again
(as signs we left)
spoken as a promise ~
of who would come
my ways to understand
swinging doors
and swollen eyes
it’s a wonder that you found me
telling tales and cursing
at the ones who came before
a drunken verse
of careless vow
and hastened I to listen
as moments kept me waiting
for the truth
remembered as a
by the way – I’ll be gone by Wednesday
else Tuesday find the best of me
pinned against your heart ~
broken boards
and bargain prices
eased my daddy’s worry
drew a map to lacey lace ~
a trail of love’s perfume
hands to fit together
warned of others (separated)
labors left to sweat
upon your brow
never thought
the choice would come to this
payment for the teaching ~
tear stained lips
are talking in the dark
as sad as one
(the other feels) for destinies rewritten
lines between the lines
and more to cross
pages torn away ~
from where we meant to leave a story
someone came too late
and fortunes fell
as shattered glass (uncertain signs)
remembered
by another ~
secrets shared
before the cards were read
Another excellent poem- I love it
Thank you, dear Cynthia. I’m so glad you like this one. ~ My love, Bobbie
cards read are a window…
you can look out at the view..take it all in
accept it and go to the door and step out
or you can just close the window and
wait for the cards to show another
as always beautiful …
Take care….
)0(
maryrose
…as are dreams ~ a view of another reality ~ another life we live ~ if we’re lucky, we hold pieces of both. Thank you, Maryrose……. You honor me. ~ Love, Bobbie
Oh Bobbie… Love it, love it, love it! And another fantastic picture too x
Thank you, Vanessa. I had the hardest time with this. The thought kept alluding me. I even went out searching the net but nothing worked……….but then I remembered another folder, and there it was……. Thank you so much, my friend. ~ Love, B
Bobbie, the picture is so good with this poem of yours…poor Cinderella, sitting in the ashes of hopes and dreams. It’s so sad too, to think we have arisen to a better, happier place only to be back where we started. Such heartache that you speak of so well…xoxox
Dearest Jeannie, I agree to some degree, but there’s another side (almost always) and that is we realize that where we started isn’t always a bad thing, and if we’re back there, it’s likely there’s something we missed. Like a really nice pair of shoes! 😉 Thank you. ~ Love, Me
well that is true Bobbie…the starting place isn’t necessarily a bad place to be. it can be a time of renewal and comfort. Yes, you are right. xoxo.
🙂 love you……
Bobbie, could not pull up the picture, but read Jeannie’s description of Cinderella sitting in the ashes. Tales of love never finishes, torn out pages from the books of our lives–wonderful imagery to picture this disappointed-in-love story.