leaning toward the sun as playful laughs echo in the wind.
These moments of delight
embrace a wounded heart.
All is never lost.
A spark, a hope, a gentleness clings never letting go.
The scent of roses fills the air
as the sun sets majestically, an overfloat
. . .
Poetry is not only dream and vision; it is the skeleton architecture of our lives. It lays the foundations for a future of change, a bridge across our fears of what has never been before.