We are what we create in life,
Through lessons learned, and not.
In tragedy there is strength unfounded,
And the mind mingles with the heart.
Control is but an illusion that we create
In hopes of finding some solace, yet
As that light dwindles we see the truth
In everything.
Friends come and go, as well as that of
Love, leaving only ourselves in the very
End of things. To partake in such endeavours,
This truly can quarry a mighty sense of self.
Life is nothing more than search, one of that
Pertaining to what dreams we hold dearest,
From the most enchanting to the dreaded
Downfall of a rolling tear that is shed in
The darkness of life. Leaving only one thing
We can take into the next life, distant memories
That can perhaps shed some light onto what
Seems an empty canvas as we paint yet another
Picture of ourselves.
From the author of Jupiter Remembered and Until It’s Time: Embracing Life In Our Later Years comes Petals of Love: Poetry of a Woman’s Soul – a heartfelt collection spanning more than thirty-five years. Through tender reflections, these poems offer g
Share
Print
Save
Follow
