Tags
becoming, connection, destiny, dreams, fearless, grace, life, living, love, restless, southern, spirit, truth, wandering, wisdom, woman, writing
it’s not my way to pick apart
the pieces that are left
to savor precious drops
still in the glass
to lie awake
imagining another time to be
would rather live to love
til life is passed
there’s nothing here
for keeping
I’m just a poet
passing through
without a word
I was to find
but loved a time or two
made my way
and made my name
a woman I would be ~
laughter echoes
somewhere else
in waves of ecstasy
for age shall never worry
or grief be held for long
meadows may grow thicker
for paths I wandered on
before my fate is ended
one more verse
shall I recite
wherever love ~
the story falls
to pages I shall write
tornadoday 
Aaaaaah, beautiful. My inner poet is jealous. I would quote the whole thing and comment, but it needs none of my addition to divide life perfectly. Quite lilting and irresistible!
Oh, thank you!! No need to be envious. If you found a connection with the words, they’re as much yours as they are mine! Truly, thank you. ~ Much love, B
Thank you, well said. Poetry belongs to those with whom it connects. Thanks for the reminder! Be blessed!
You too!
I was awestruck reading your poem…so very completely you! Truly a jewel that how good it is! Thanks for sharing!
The ongoing soul-journey of the poet is what matters! This poem very beautifully pays homage to this worthy resolve!