Stories are told
in the light of the moon
white light touching
bare and shadowed faces
the absence of color
dusted the beauty
moments so rare,
a teasing of the night

Where was the day
we stepped inside our lives?
Given time to know
the way we truly are inside
was the place more precious
there inside a dream
holding onto all there was
and ever would remain

Sands of time, a memory,
a moment spoken in the truth
with all its colors melting
from the sunset of the day
memories of who we are
and letting go of where we were
touching in the moment
till it stood within its reason

Places in our lives are never
what we think they’ll be
Love is always in our souls
and Love will guide our days
even when we think we know
the best that we have done
there’s no better…

View original post 47 more words


6 comments on “

  1. Heather, The painting in the right margin caught my eye instantly-beautiful.


  2. BTW – this picture is at Gillette Castle on the Connecticut River. I was struck by the woodwork that went in to all the fittings in his home … Thanks for re-blogging … (an I agree with elena all of your art I have seen is remarkable, you’re hard work and talent shows …)


  3. that was such a great post, I learn a lot from you


  4. granbee says:

    I have already enjoyed this on grandfather sky’s blog–and am so pleased you were inspired by it and reblogged it here! Grandfather is so gently wise, isn’t he?


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