All the signs are there:
this path will take me off the page:
The clear blue welcome of home
recedes into the mist;
new fences bar the way,
declare new ownership,
new rules,
new life.
Someone has coated this bright road with silver
to lure me down the trail
but I've been here before
and know the stronger light means darker shadows.
Hold my hand:
Perhaps in sharing this downward rush
I'll beat the odds,
and will not slip this time.
Words & Image by Diane Walker, all rights reserved.
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1 comment:
Beautiful!
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