You’ve watched them fade, these fragile dreams you sowed
when innocence was freshly minted, the shade
of spring meadows. Just when they felt full-grown,
they yellowed, curled, leaves from an ancient and
shabby book. You lost your grip;
now they lie scattered at your feet, crisp in their
brokenness. You could have died with them – no one
would have blamed you if you had joined your fallen
comrades in all their ashen stillness. Yet here you
stand, head high, arms outstretched,
hands open, expectant. You are an oak,
sinewy and solid. Storms have toughened your skin,
stiffened more than your upper lip,
rooted you in profound places. And I think,
that if you can stand tall after all you’ve lost,
I could stand, too.
Wow , Melody! I think I could stand too . . .like a reverse domino effect. 🙂 Thanks for the blessing of your poetry!
Stand WITH me!! We’ll be a mini forest! 😉 Thanks Deb!
I like the idea of being part of a mini-forest.
Maybe a copse or specimen planting at the very least? 😉
Beautiful, powerful, and encouraging words, Melody!
Thank you very much. Hope you are enjoying your weekend!
Oh so lovely and moving
Why thank you Joanne! 🙂
Beautiful poetry as always!
Thank you Stephen!
Thank you Kae!
Love the poem and the wonderful picture 👏