Tags
becoming, breath, connection, death, dreams, faith, fearless, grace, gravel roads, life, love, nature, old maps, passion, poetry, reason, restless, seeing in the dark, spirit, strength, truth, understanding, value, wonder
fragile falls
the eager first
to raise our hopes again
to fill the empty lines
ahead with verse
– a rhyme
tho none would notice
the way
I spoke your name
while tender
curved a hand
against my heart
souvenirs
are taken in
folded to the crease
memorized
as season –
year by year
til only one remembers
well enough
the story goes
of ways
the words were whispered
– now again
in the silent song
of morning light
truths are laid together
– a softer line
than e’er a rhyme
could touch
. . .
. . .
The beginnings and endings, and cycling back again, and the moments of truth and love in between. I especially love the words “the silent song of morning light” — a thousand poems can be spun from these words alone. Love, Dee
The truth is that we are always returning to home…….. Thank you, my precious Dee. ~ Love ever, Bobbie
I want to say things here but somehow the words are blocked somewhere between my mind and the keyboard. Anymore there seems to be too many roadblocks. ~xo, always~ Me
………may the words settle warm against your soul……….even if they can never be spoken aloud…… That is the truth we carry, that which has no sound. xo