Wherefore do we go now,
our homes but tattered heaps
of hope sowed so long ago,
our pockets full of flower seeds
tearing at the seems to grow
up from the refuse and turn
their tendered faced petals
to the dawning sun again.
9 June 06
Written to be paired with a necklace made for WRBH's Radio for the Blind and Print Handicapped yearly fundraising auction.
Hey Michael,
ReplyDeleteI just wanted to say Hi! I still think of you often and hope you are doing well.
Would love to hear if you are now a boat pilot.
~xo
Lee Ann