Tags
becoming, conscious consciousness, destiny, dreams, faith, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, love, old maps, passion, relationship, spirit, spirituality, strength, understanding, value
before the dark
is pulled away –
a shelf of memories
is fastened to the wanting
of my soul
with dishes I was saving
linens I adore
they way they feel
as secrets
not yet told
awake the dawn
where sunday grieved
a path already gone
dusted by the leaving –
folded into vine
some memory
of almost was
I can scarce recall
the way your hands
became the same
as mine
. . .
tornadoday 
Reblogged this on Frederick Anderson and commented:
I wish I had written this:
You humble me……..
Okay. Among the pages of WordPress ‘poets’ lie scattered like leaves blown from a literary tree they neither know nor understand. But please understand this – you are truly a poet. This piece is so sensuous and tactile I feel I could almost lift each word from the page and embrace it. Please, sent this everywhere! Reblogged on Frederick Anderson.
You touch my heart………. Thank you, my dear one. ❤
Wordsmith, from any perspective, this is nothing short of beautiful. It sings !!! ~~xo~
Me
🙂