And still I dream of stepping back into yesterday
Where time flowed so freely golden with serenity
We would sit in pine scented grove and sip lemonade
Our talk tranquil as sun dappled creek murmuring in quiet wood
Never arguing or complaining but flooded with blissful reverie
A time bygone and peaceful, learning to know each other again
Listening to the background symphony of cicadas and katydids
Poignantly nostalgic with yearnings of bygone days
Watching velvety dusk deepen into shades of whispering night
Relishing each breeze laden with moss and murmuring pine
Anticipating the dawn awakened by drowsy robins and wood thrush
Skies east to west stained with strawberry hues and dreams renewed
And still I shall dream on

**~Hilda~

The poems I read here are mostly tragic beauty.
Line after line
I can see that we are not all just
fine and dandy.

The letters chosen
are strung together.
They just keep going on forever.

The words they make , however,
each are splendid and
profoundly, purposefully unique.

The thoughts spilled out here
are often troubling at best.
I can't help but pray
for each poet's souls end to unrest.

These words of course have to be real
but they also have so much power to heal!

For those words are each unique
and can express so much more
other than our darkest street,
but more and more of hope
and of our highest highest peaks!

A baby's breath speaks softly
and fiercely into the dark,
to the girl whose breath
first met theirs.

It whispers love
in the darkest places of her soul.
As she struggles to rise
from resting, this baby's breath
is suddenly her own.

In that moment,
all the girl ever wants
is the chance to be a breeze
they will breath in , heal
and remember her by.

Peace presses hard around us.
Like water seeping through
laid brick cracks.

It finds it's way to the soil
we're made of.
Saying let me be love
in your roots and
grace to help you grow.

Those bricks we laid
will crumble some day and
water will flood
new life forever,
as we
finally
break
aw
a
y.

His wonderfully wide hands
held petite palms.
Together, pressing fingers further to hers.
Entwining rugged,northern and salt stained
with
silken, light and southern rain.

Swept from shore to shore,
they claimed to climb lighthouses.
Letting love light up their lifelines.

Giving all their gold to God's grace
that grew deeper into the furnace.
He let them hear His plans,
as they both were then held hopefully
all their lives
in His wonderfully wide hands.

Love is cruel
only if it is lost.

A man, a woman
can only love so much.

So only the love
of my Savior I first trust.

New life knows nothing
yet more than I can imagine.
It flutters in a safe, warm cocoon
awaiting the day to see this strange world.

New life hears muffled music and Mommy's voice.
Mommy thinks every second of how she loves you
and how to keep you strong and faithful, but
give you free will and show you how to be still.

For now new life needs nourishment of the healthy kind
the basics of life and love. Mommy thinks in a panicky way
of how she can give you the same peace your whole life,
keep you safe from strife.

But knows it can't all be given by her, who will learn you.
Only by Him, who already knows you,
can show you.

* To my little one