Into my heart
this time of year slips quietly.
The silken fingers of angels
write their hymns of praise
across the morning sky.
Dark
brooding church steeples
injecting the sky into my gaze.
On God's quiet slope,
I rest ~
While
Christmas
comes
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A sound of birds singing
It's early. And almost a year since I was here. I hear a sound of birds singing outside my window and a dog barking down the street. ...
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All I've been able to do this week is get up, and go through the motions of each day. I'm struggling to find the wo... -
In a thousand moments I asked you to sing me a song of summer so I wouldn't have to let her go. It brought back a... -
I saw him walking with the sticks bundled , under his arm. Shuffling along slowly going home, to his fire.
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Pretty misty stars