A great whoosh of the air
she’d been holding inside.
The strong glow up ahead,
a blinding, gold light.
Forward, the way
not the left, not the right.
The past, it’s left behind,
with all of it’s fright.
Breathe in the new scents,
the new tastes, hear the sound
of the woman’s voice clear, and loud,
and no longer bound.
She speaks with great thought, never rash,
For other’s will listen,
and hear what has been told.
Keep to your own way
and never lose sight.
Don’t forget the good that you do,
the lives that you touch, the hearts that you light!
For those in your company are well known
to be blessed by your vision, your wisdom,
Weakened sunlight through the cloudy dawn
gives minimal light to a long, long night
and breaks into my mind,
a landscape hazy, but showing promise.
A seahorse cloud, a darker grey,
moves gracefully across the bed of
cream colored fluff that is its ocean
and is viewed by my tired soul through a window.
A gliding, flowing seahorse cloud,
sent for me, special, that morning,
to float my heart and bring
the lost smile back to my tired, pale face.
It slides and moves just like real,
and stays in my vision, a lifting tribute
to possible, wondrous dreams,
not yet even imagined.