Remember some seeds weren't made to be trees...
Made to be Trees
My Feet
Yet this I remember - beneath me are my feet...
The Long Walk
The trees are muttering lovely sweet nothings...
Road to Gilead
I could use a gentle rain as I walk the road to Gilead...
This is My Path
This is my wont, this is my path...
But this I know, and this I need: as my Lover clasps my hand, I shall continue on, and breathe
Again.
Good night, my friend, and tell me where are you going again?
One Road
There must come a point when I might become my own.
Time Beleaguered
Dusk threatens with tendrils of gold To put me to sleep in the loveliest fold "Just up the stream" by a nymph, I'm told Is where I can run and never grow old But the decaying smell of moss and mold Lies just behind and bites like bitter cold Now I've gone too far, this life I've... Continue Reading →
December Rose 