More
More
More than the dust underfoot,
which in the beginning
was sculpted into humanity…
More than rivers running
from mountains to quench
thirst and calm the spirit…
More than reading the classic
stories that fill libraries…
I await life’s gift of hearing
your voice sing to my heart
of your passing days.
**This poem is written for our grand-daugher Scarlet now re-united with us after being kept from any contact for a decade. She turns 16 this month.
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