Sunday, June 12, 2011

As she sits in the rocking chair
she rocks with an intensity
that of course leads no where

In her utterly
 f
  r
a
    g
i
      l
e
 state
anxiety flows through her like a muddy river
 she waits 
and waits
 for the quaking
in her veins to cease

Nerves are as s.h.a.tt.e.r.ed
as the vintage wine bottle
that lays at her feet

Her heart soars with love and contentment
that NO words can describe
BUT
                                                             Her mind is a restless wind
which can not be contained

Sunday, June 5, 2011