Autumn · Dull November · kitchen rhymes

Bittersweet


Once I was a girl

I would sit under a certain tree

To puzzle out my troubles

I am a woman now

There is grey in my hair that I do not wish to wash away

I hardly remember the girl who was born back then

Once I thought I could chase happiness

As if it were a destination I could arrive at

But sorrow found me

Lit a raging blaze within me

And created a bond as strong as an oak

beams of light in the forest scream down from above

I have learned to look past the blue-grey lichen covered branches

To wait for the silence in the clearings

And dance with both sorrow and joy as my partners.


The Sunday Whirl

2 thoughts on “Bittersweet

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