Tags
breath, connection, death, destiny, dreams, fearless, gravel roads, kentucky, knowledge, life, love, memory, old maps, passion, postmark, restless, spirit, truth, understanding, wandering
. . .
morning fits
with amber hues
her memory of night –
of places left
beyond the reach of dreams
where stories fell in secret
pages brittle bound –
light was lost to
moments
burned between
longing wakes
before the sun –
pulls the covers round
til supper is grown cold
and windows black –
living tends to hurt
the least
dying feels so wrong –
time
– it seems so different
looking back
. . .
tornadoday 
powerful post….
Thank you, Robert. I’m glad you liked it…………… ~ Love, Bobbie
I like this one very much too. Very compact.
Thank you, Stephen……… I suspect, as I, you’ve figured out the hardest things to say tend to take the least amount of words. 😉 Thank you. ~ Much love, Bobbie
just simply…I felt…
)0(
and just as simply, I am humbled that you did……….that you do. Thank you, Maryrose. ~ Always with love, Bobbie
Time feels foreign to me especially at dawn. xo
Yes, I agree……….. Morning comes in near silence to remind us of what eternity feels like. Thank you, Debbie. ~ Love always, Bobbie
Time is always different when looking back. Memories give emphasis to what was best (or, in some cases, worst) in our past. The good things, the sweet thing, always float to the forefront. Morning is always an interruption to the night games the mind plays with us in our dreams. Short, sweet, and …..just great, Bobbie. Good night, darlin’ girl. ~~xo~~ Paul
Time changes our view, doesn’t it………. The past is never where we left it. Thank you, Paul. ~ Love ever, Bobbie
isn’t time but a river we go fish in! & has any fisherman ever gotten the same basket once again even through the folds of his imagination.
Touched as always; hugs
What a beautiful way to say it, Mira………… It is indeed – a river running in one direction. Let us float with our face toward the sun. ~ Love you always, Bobbie