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For the gifts

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  • For the gifts

    Be they kind or cruel,
    loving or cool
    one truth about mothers is spread before my coal fired eyes:
    Sitting on my swing, scented brewed warmth filling my hands and awakening whys
    listening to morning light trill flight. Trees gowned in blossoms of hope stand and sway
    constant, above and beneath my feet. Winds journeyed from afar breathe upon my arms and play
    with strands endless and thick, unloosed, tangled and softly tickling high curving cheeks. Gladdened to walk this plane
    through happiness, haze and pain.
    I am the truth about mothers, living, un-denied and renewed
    and dear reader and writer, fellow mortals, so are you.


    Last edited by Katray; 05-08-2016, 09:21 AM. Reason: correcting punctuation errors

  • #2
    Hi, Katray,

    This uplifting piece flows with delightful, dreamy images.
    Your writing is outstanding and always a pleasure to read.

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    • Katray
      Katray commented
      Editing a comment
      Thank you so much MHenry and I feel likewise about your work.

  • #3
    Nicely stated Katray - we are our mothers (and fathers) sons and daughters - and the best in us often comes from the best in them.

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    • #4
      You've reached a level of your craft that I can only admire and dream about. You've challenged me to think and expand my imagination beyond my mind's conventional borders. And isn't that why we're here? Bravo Katray!

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      • #5
        Oh i do like this poem!! I will stop reading for tonight, as I have just found words to sleep on:Trees gowned in blossoms of hope
        Thank you and good night Katray!

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