Tags
becoming, bliss, connection, dreams, faith, fearless, forgiveness, gravel roads, knowledge, life, love, old maps, passion, poetry, reason, relationship, restless, spirit, strength, truth, understanding, value
what effort
this forever took
of moments yesterday
with dreams to keep
and others
put away
floated down
with autumn leaves –
asleep beneath the snow
with souvenirs
of everything
we know
maps across
and taken down
pages folded now –
names and dates
reminding us
somehow
seasons
of surrender –
but a sign
of journeys past
the ways to home
– a long way back
at last
. . .
tornadoday 
“but a sign
of journeys past
the ways to home”…
Home…, what is that; where is that ? I’ve searched for that house…, in so many towns…, in so many places…, only to understand that the only home I have is the one I carry within my heart. It’s not a location or a building, but a place within me. I know this probably isn’t what you were writing about, Bobbie, but it’s what your words brought to mind as I read them. Good Night, darlin’ girl. ~xo~
Paul
Ahh, Paul……….indeed, home is a place we carry with us………from the cradle to the grave……beyond and back. 🙂 Love to you. ~ Me
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.