With all the grace
I can carry
from the insides of my heart
I will try
opening my hands
as I feel the distance grow.
For you,
for me.
One finger at a time,
slowly
and still
unsurely,
the tight dark grip
will lift
like the daffodils
in Washington Park
up the hill
in warm Spring.
With all the courage
I can find
from the deepest parts of me
I will try
sitting still
as I watch you float away.
For me,
for you.
Out my open arms.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 9:11 PM UTC
With all the grace
I can carry
from the insides of my heart
I will try
opening my hands
as I feel the distance grow.
For you,
for me.
One finger at a time,
slowly
and still
unsurely,
the tight dark grip
will lift
like the daffodils
in Washington Park
up the hill
in warm Spring.
With all the courage
I can find
from the deepest parts of me
I will try
sitting still
as I watch you float away.
For me,
for you.
Out my open arms.
