
Life is happening. Life is always happening|It doesn’t accommodate our schedule |or ask for an appointment| It isn’t scouting for the perfect environment| or adjusting for the most flattering angle
My words.
Life is happening. Life is always happening|It doesn’t accommodate our schedule |or ask for an appointment| It isn’t scouting for the perfect environment| or adjusting for the most flattering angle
I could see
you so clearly, feel you, even, and smell
all your scents – you know, the natural ones;
the perfumed ones; your hands – so warm, so strong
and comforting (all, your essence) – so missed.
“He had 99 problems, but death wasn’t one. And it wasn’t any strangers, He sent His only Son.”
My winter cleaning unearthed an old notebook. I opened it to this poem from over a decade ago. I don’t think I’ve ever shared it and I certainly understand it better today […]
Terry Ann: Eulogy As the moon shines, The angels come. On a warm, hazy night With stars twinkling bright; The waves crashed against shore With their ever beckoning lure. Terry Ann, my […]