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Each smile a map, each line a trail,
Etched softly on the skin's embrace.
A journey marked in fine detail,
The story written on your face.

The laugh that danced around the eyes
Still lingers in a softened fold,
A map of moments, lows and highs,
A quiet story, gently told.

Not every crease was born from pain,
Some stem from joy that overflowed.
Expressions that we can't restrain,
Emotions that our hearts bestowed.

So wear these lines with quiet pride,
They are the footprints of your days.
A testament to life applied,
A living poem on your face’s page.
Time always tells no matter the canvas. When I look at others I can't help but notice their resting face and what it says about how they feel about their life.

We have earned everyone of our wrinkles. I refuse to try to make them disappear to look more attractive to anyone. If you can't see beauty in the life that I lived on my body then honey you aren't my people.
Fear starts to creep in,
My heart makes a sound, "BA-DUM, BA-DUM."
Then I remind myself of the goodness of God,
I fell asleep, the fear is gone.
Do not let fear control you or your mind.
"When I am afraid, I put my trust in You."
Psalm 56:3
Like two lips,
pursed together,
but in a smile.

The petals are smooth -
coloured in silky shades
of red or pink
or perhaps a
vibrant cerise.

He buys me these flowers
every anniversary
to remind me

of his deep
and enduring love.
A poem for my lovely, lovely husband. Almost 25  years now.  He is a good soul that I so love and appreciate.
None seems to have written
on what I consider as semi-religion
a follower of Universal Kindness I am-
call me then a semi -religious person
A bit of Black.
A piece of Scarlet.
There's no turning back.
When I place my rings upon you
nothing is beyond my grasp.
Each rotate to become the main body of it.
In place of angels
the hand of friendship
forms a pattern on the wall.
It's there to remind us
we're all sitting targets.
It can wait---the universe-
just understand yourself first
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