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Who is that person over there… the one with wild, unruly hair…
The one so full of doubt chagrined, who with a word makes heads to spin?
Is she with blemished, wrinkled face a child of wrath or child of grace?
They barreled on like freight-train bound ‘midst spaces few that held no sound
Most held delight and brought a smile (though some ‘slipped’ phrases aped the vile)
Bring forth a love so full and real that all around, ensnared in zeal
React, as drawn, from laying gaze, upon her poor, attempted ways
Through cross, through angst, on winding roads, picks up, lays down her daily load
Who is that one so blessed and free? I think...why yes…that one is me!
10-17-2014
©RhymeLovingWriter 2014
The one so full of doubt chagrined, who with a word makes heads to spin?
Is she with blemished, wrinkled face a child of wrath or child of grace?
Last time I looked that girl grew large…like round and fully loaded barge
Yet spritely step and joyful heart are more what served to set apart
Compassion in her voice and hand, made ordinary seem quite grand
Her words, good Lord, the talk which fell from lips no warning look could quellYet spritely step and joyful heart are more what served to set apart
Compassion in her voice and hand, made ordinary seem quite grand
They barreled on like freight-train bound ‘midst spaces few that held no sound
Most held delight and brought a smile (though some ‘slipped’ phrases aped the vile)
From stern to aft and back again, her moods reflected in the yen
‘To be or not to be’ held true with nudges here and there to DO
Not think, or wait, or even care…just take some action…if she dare
The passing sands of hourglass long must be directed, like a song‘To be or not to be’ held true with nudges here and there to DO
Not think, or wait, or even care…just take some action…if she dare
Bring forth a love so full and real that all around, ensnared in zeal
React, as drawn, from laying gaze, upon her poor, attempted ways
No impulse sparked to turn away, just invitation now to stay
Engaged, with one who gives her heart without reserve, nor set apart
From those whose pain and need appear, to draw her in, despite her fear
This woman form, this mother’s child, consumed by thoughts both rash and mildEngaged, with one who gives her heart without reserve, nor set apart
From those whose pain and need appear, to draw her in, despite her fear
Through cross, through angst, on winding roads, picks up, lays down her daily load
Who is that one so blessed and free? I think...why yes…that one is me!
10-17-2014
©RhymeLovingWriter 2014
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