A time of restlesness, at the end of her day, slowly she breathes….


A lazy spring breeze barely moves the leaf-laden tree,

As it begs so hauntingly, "Come and play in me."

How old must one's ghost child be to ignore the plea,

To hide in re-breathed, man-made cool air,

Just an old woman in her dim, sad lair.

Dancing the unseen current fades as a pastel dream,

Screaming laughter in the zephyr's sweet stream,

The awakened girl abides "within," longing to be free,

Escaping the prison of her window-chair,

Re-born again with wind blown hair.

So comely is her spirit, so beautifully gentle the day,

She welcomes memories, "Come back I pray!"

A ruffling aura faintly disturbs her rest and reverie,

Peace ascends with blessings and care,

Beauty re-found in the One so fair.
"Sweet Jesus," she sings in the warm gusty twilight,

Softly he answers, "I'm the strength for your night."

I am your yesterday, today, and the day that shall be,

In your dreams, wait for me there,

Breezes of heaven together we'll share.

A time of rest, at the end of her day, slowly she breathes….




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