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becoming, breath, conscious consciousness, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, life, love, mystery, old maps, passion, self, soul signature, southern, spirit, truth, undefined wilderness, understanding, woman
started once
a story –
might I tell you everything
and wait the night
with worry
lest you leave
the locket
from the promise –
the poem
from the page
I’ve seen you there
folded to the crease
where rhyme is left
and reason waits –
who am I
to say
there’s more to me
than I could give away
. . .
tornadoday 
How could a ring be left for promise? There are so many rings and each ring will have its own story. But anyways this was a nice poem and it well says about your capacity to express every emotion in a few lines.
Oh my sweet, Rahul……….even a smile can be left of a promise. Thank you for your kindness….and yes, everything (everything) bears another story. ~ Love, Bobbie
Oh, I just love this, Bobbie. I would repeat the lines that I love, but there are too many – just the whole piece. Really lovely! xxx
Thank you, dear Angela. Somehow, I’m not surprised you like this……… How sweet the understanding that is loving hearts. Always, Bobbie
“who am I to say there’s more to me than I could give away.” I love this line, it took many decades to realize I can give without depleting myself.
How true, dearest Mary. Our capacity to love is far greater than our imagination. We are only ever limited by our willingess to open and let the world fall in…….. Thank you. ~ Ever love, Bobbie
🙂 beautiful words 🙂 xo
Thank you, kind sir………. Love, me
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.