Tags
becoming, connection, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, life, love, old maps, passion, postmark, reason, restless, southern, spirit, strength, truth, understanding, wandering
of roads
without a ways to go
and miles against the heavens –
silver ladles dripping
now with stars
whispers wrapped in reddest clay
and someone waiting
somwhere
with open arms –
another faraway
of stops along
the getting there –
postcards from the journey
a name or two
and someday I won’t care
hands to warm
against my night –
two bucks more than ever
I thought you’d be
returning for me here
dying vines
and twisted rose –
graces saved for leaving
what more
the time to waste
with letting go
were circumstance
for coming back –
across the fields of wanting
to lie against
my restlessness –
and know the ways
I came
. x .
tornadoday 
Could it be that from all the wandering, the stops along the journey, paradise was all the while within the heart. Beautiful as always, Bobbie. I especially loved “silver ladles dripping now with stars”… Love, Dee
I am absolutely convinced, Dee. It’s the same as those who are forever looking to reclaim Jeruselem, and all the while, it is not a place without. Thank you, my dear dear friend. ~ Love you, Bobbie
“And know the ways I came”, remarkable words, from a truly remarkable poem…your words always leave me to sigh when i reach their end, taking deep breaths. For your words are always inspiring and lifting while feeding the hearts it touches with your mesmerizing joy! So very good you are dear Bobbie!
You steal my breath with your praises…….. Thank you, my darling Wendell. Your kindness warms my soul. ~ Love ever, Bobbie