Tags
becoming, bone cave, breath, cedar grove, destiny, faith, family, fearless, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, living, love, memory, old maps, passion, postmark, reason, southern, spirit, spirituality, touch, truth, understanding, value, wisdom
papa thought
the path was long
but didn’t mind the walking
was just the way
he told the story
mine
of skies
where only wing’eds sailed
heights too much
for man
lands beyond
a destiny
imagined us become
a house
and forty acres
was someone left
to grieve
hands were folded
doors unlatched
always
clean enough
for supper
sunday
as talk where silence lay
nestled in the arms
of everything
tornadoday 
Wonderful memories, dancing to life through the breath of your always priceless words…always wonderful to embrace and read B! Blessings and hugs!
That which comes to us with love is divine indeed, dear Wendell. Always, your heart knows my own. Blessings to you…….
This feels like a stroll into a more gentle past…, taken at a pace that permits gathering memories along the way, Bobbie. Your words could so easily describe my Gram. Memories of what was really important…, then and now. ~~Always~~
Paul
Your Gram lives in you, Paul………… I am blessed to be a reminder of her light.
The more, as years pass, I realize how much of her she instilled in me…, most likely all the good parts. 😉