Saturday, November 26, 2005

Ah, A Fresh Batch of Leaves to Land

I will Start Fresh...along with the Exodus.

"The Willow"

Can no Longer Keep up
Withered and Forgotten
Like the Branches of a Willow
My stories Weaved into One
A Basket that Holds a Tale
Too many and Complicated for some
Intertwined and Gathered in my Gut
The Solace and Quiet Times are Few
We Hours of the Morning
Long Before the Sun
Sleeping Children, Pets and Husband to Adore
If only Peace would over come these Branches
Knotted, Rotting in the Womb
Perhaps then My Mind be Silenced and My Soul anew