30 Wednesday May 2012
Posted in Poetry
Tags
becoming, cherokee, connection, destiny, grace, gravel roads, life, living, love, nature, reason, relationship, restless, southern, spirit, truth, wandering, wisdom, woman
more of me
is just this much
a season born of wasting
waves where once
the colors scattered
sweetly to the day
were crushed beneath
our summer slippers
waltzing past
the meadow’s green
touch so fleeting –
who remembers
where we were
when we flew away
Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic
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tornadoday 
lovely, beautiful flow; it takes you into the image rather that watching it, beautiful poem, Love, Linda
…one of your lovely comments that got ‘mis-filed’ by gremlins……. Thank you, Linda. And here I was wondering why I wasn’t hearing from you. (and I was…….) Thank you so much. There are three more from you in the same file. ~ Love you, Bobbie
maybe that’s why when we get older we sometimes have a second childhood, to try and rekindle that bit of spark and joy of ‘then’.
I think you’re right, Jeannie………except that it comes at a time when we’ve realized what really matters so we can enjoy it as we should have the first time (without the wondering and wanting for tomorrow). Love you, Bobbie
I remember. Now all I need to figure out is where to land… ~D
LOL!!!!