05 Sunday Apr 2015
Posted in Poetry
Tags
becoming, connection, destiny, faith, grace, gravel roads, life, living, love, old maps, passion, reason, spirit, truth, understanding, wandering, woman
was it for this
a silence surrendered
– nights
when I can’t buy a dream
mornings find me
out on the porch
rocking alone –
eyes facing north
fussing with buttons
and cursing
sometimes –
to wonder
(and how I must do that
a lot)
haunted by traces
places untouched
fingers burnt
by beginning
. . .
Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic
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No word can say how much I miss feeling every word you knit….xxoo
a time traveled softly the roads in between………. Thank you, Mira Jay………and yes, I know you know. ❤
It’s threqueste morning and as I stare at the ceiling
I search for a dream that will be more appealing
But this quest is fruitless, I toss where I lay
Morosely awaiting dawn of the new day.
…oh, well, there’s leftover coffee in the pot on the sink… !
Me
hahhahahah……. perhaps you should have coffee before you type 🙂
One would think that, at 3 in the morning, I would know that ! 🙂 Half asleep, typing on my tablet’s tiny keypad….., yeah! I needed the coffee ! Ha! 🙂
Reblogged this on DON'T RUN AWAY.
Another very fine one. From the opening line.
Thank you, Stephen………. Always, you sing me home.