“There you are,” having fallen into helplessness,
lost in the pile of life’s debri.
I pick you up, dust you off,
dear old friend,
but don’t leave again…
I smile down at my long lost pen.
copyrighted: CMM August 2010
Within the winter’s storm, far beyond degrees,
delicate flower has weathered the rigid winter’s breeze.
If fallen snow does come in winter’s frozen ground,
I look outside my window noticing the pansy still around.
Don’t misunderstand the refinement of color, softness and touch
all too many thrust past grace, forgetting strength in much…