once weak and frail
maintaining tides
weathering gales
where faith resides
glimmers of hope
and letting go
temporal lobe
like dreams formed in snow
melting away
dissolved from sight
rhythmically sway
heavenly white
appear without end
kept safe from harm
a long lost friend
reviving calm
some bold and proud
some quiet and small
some smiles some frowns
answer the call
that we convey
without a word
things we can't say
though vaguely blurred
a powerful force
that nature can't match
a limitless source
that time cannot snatch
a capsule souvenired
an echo of time
heard without an ear
undeniably mine
reflections of me
and the loves I have known
spirits that are set free
occasionally find their way home
About the Creator
Kelli Sheckler-Amsden
Telling stories my heart needs to tell <3 life is a journey, not a competition
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Keep reading
More stories from Kelli Sheckler-Amsden and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Irony of Flying While We Bomb the "World's Greatest Terror Regime"
Ah, the irony of flying at this moment in time as the United States is simultaneously bombing Iran - the nation officials have insisted for decades is "The World's Greatest Terror Regime" - while the TSA is on a go-slow, courtesy of a funding squeeze that's left its officers unpaid, quitting in droves, and turning checkpoints into something like slow-moving bread lines.
By Scott Christenson🌴8 days ago in Humor
Comments (1)
Eleoquent and wonderfully rhythmic, Kelli. Well done!