memories
-
What do you notice, when you stop and look within. Memories like fragile raindrops. Dangling on the grass, delicate holding on. Cumulatively heavy, on a light blade of grass dragging it down. Yet The grass is not the raindrops And one day there’ll be a storm and wind and sunlight and heat. And the raindrops…
-
For everything under the sun, there is a time This is the season of your awakened harvesting When pain takes you to where you would rather not go. Through the white curtain of yesterdays to a place You had forgotten you knew from the inside out And a time when the bitter tree was planted.…
James Ballantyne 