Warmth tempts my berry tipped toes
to the opening of my den.
I crouch by new grass blades
sharp with the bitter scent of promise.
I am spring born.
What was my life before this long darkness?
Before this crescent edge of sun?
Do the trees stand exactly as they used to,
cutting out room for my shadow
in their own greater shade?
Does the river carve out the spots where I used to stand
in hopes that my feet will
nestle in its water again?
I take one step forward
into the–
I am spring born.
What a lovely poem.
Debbie
Plwmnd
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So moving. Brought tears. When you live with aLS most of the petty concerns fall away. You are a courageous and beautiful lady
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Reblogged this on The Digital Picture and commented:
Beautiful
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Beautiful thoughts, thanks for sharing.
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