Tags
becoming, breath, connection, destiny, dreams, fearless, forgiveness, grace, kentucky, life, living, love, old maps, passion, postmark, reason, relationship, soul, spirit, strength, truth, understanding, value, wandering
she remembered
every snowflake
as memory to her tongue
knew by taste
of oceans –
might a tear become
carried by
the faithful Mississippi
knew her song
and every port
by name
a mystery
of histories
frozen into word –
breathed against
a broken window pane
distant
as the night
from where it started
sorrows coming down
to match
the rain
. . .
tornadoday 
The vicious circle of solicitude.
But never forget, that the colour of a thought corresponds with the condition of the mind …
Indeed, dear Salva. The flowers grow sweetest where the ground is love.
Hopefully.
Exquisite. Breathtakingly beautiful. I’m speechless. You pour your entire soul into every poem. I’m mesmerized.
Your kindness blesses me, Millie. I love you. How could I not? ❤
Felt more than understood this, Bobbie. There was such an ageless sense of emotion woven through each line. I pictured the journey of a mind from a raindrop, snowflake, or a tear, along the river to the sea. Marvellous !!! ~~Always~~
Me
I’ve heard God described as the stone in the well. Everything else moves. We are the river, the snowflake, the tear……..returning, relearning our way to home. Thank you, dearest Paul.
Like receiving beautiful flowers your words always refresh the deepest parts…so very lovely!
The hand which holds the flowers blesses them most. Thank you, dearest Wendell.