Tags
bliss, conscious consciousness, destiny, dreams, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, life, love, old maps, passion, postmark, reason, self, southern, spirit, truth, understanding, value, wisdom
someone made mention
of rings on the table
habits worn clean
to the bone
a rusted out latch
keeps no one from leaving
a whispered reminder
of reasons
to stay
where the fences
need mending
and water runs cool
sprung from a river
two miles ‘neath the porch
we watched the sun rise
another
one day
when spoke of intention
promise undone
by a change in the
weather
warm cotton gowns
I dared not replace
with the pretense of love
the essence of summer
left on the line
and a glass
of the best I knew how
. . .
“Country roads take me back
to the place I belong…….”
Neither whiskey nor cards, but a poor 60 acres of bottom land along a river. I never knew him to love anything else…
…….xo
me
This was meant to go on the previous post, Bobbie. My computer is doing strange things again ! Your words almost seem an apt description of that farm, his dream that never quite seemed to work out right. All I can say is that he tried his best.
And in the grand scheme of living, perhaps that’s all we should aspire to…….to the reaching for a dream, a hand within another, a light on the porch always burning……….
just a sight…perhaps only you can understand it..
Perhaps just a reminder that home needs no place; only a soul to be tied with. Thank you, Mira Jay. ❤
Home in our hearts <3, always