Tags
age, blessings, brave enough to die, courage, faith, home, it's what I do, love, seasons, time, truth
are there roses
where you planted winter wheat
I had that happen
once
when you were here
it came as no surprise
that the frost
had nearly gone
when briars pushed their way
despite the fear
I recognized
when first was held
at mercy to the pain
but couldn’t bear
the thought of letting go
ashes fall in autumn
just when the weeds turn brown
tis there I grieve
for love as none –
as tears within the snow
. . .
tornadoday 