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becoming, bliss, death, destiny, faith, fearless, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, living, love, old maps, poetry, restless, self, soul signature, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding, wandering, wisdom
there are places
without keeping
evidence of us –
yet sometimes there’s a breeze
that seems to know
of faraways
and couldn’t stays –
rings against the cedar
lines above the highway
lines below
wing’ed flights
beyond the lights –
there we touch again
whispering our secrets
in the cold
. . .
tornadoday 
Our lives leave traces, the ocean breezes know, and every tear we shed, is kept in a crystal bottle. Beautiful as always, Bobbie. Love, Dee
All we are, all we ever shall be…….kept forever in the places we knew. Our mere presence, an eternal souvenir. Thank you, my dearest Dee. ~ Love, Bobbie
But it’s Springtime, Bobbie, and it’s getting warmer (a flower told me so just this morning). This was a wonderfully romantic bit of verse, darlin’ girl. ~always~
Paul
Yes, it is definitely Spring. The birds are restless and the grass is already on it’s third mowing. 🙂 ~ Thank you, Paul. ~ Ever, Bobbie
Your words always deliver a sweet rhythm of blessings to fill the day with your smile! It is always so worthwhile to embrace your words early in the morning, it always makes the day start out so well! God bless my sister!
I’m so glad, Wendell, and so very blessed as well! Thank you for the joy you bring to my life, to my words. ~ Love, Bobbie
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.