I think about the missing of those I love past loss and grief; and I hope I showed them how I’d decorated the rooms they occupied in my heart before they left or were gone. That we are words and phrases and metaphors and stories—read books, read poems, simply read and enjoyed and loved… this tickles me to no end. I can know that even in gut wrenching loneliness, next to my own pile of well worn memories of love, I must be, hopefully, a creased-up old cover with earmarked pages, a favourite upon the shelves and bedside tables of a great many people. This poem of yours is delicately lovely in its longing. 🫶🏼🙏🏼💕
This is so beautifully penned.
Thanks Jo,
Lady of the sea,
Sister of joy,
Bringer of blue,
and the waves that lap
the shore softly,
water can never be tamed,
only contained - for a while,
for it does what it wants,
its own mistress.
This comment is something special all of its own. 😍🩶
Thank you Jo.
Hope you have the best weekend possible!!
And you too!
ahh this made me feel so much😭❤️
In a good way, I hope 🤞
I think about the missing of those I love past loss and grief; and I hope I showed them how I’d decorated the rooms they occupied in my heart before they left or were gone. That we are words and phrases and metaphors and stories—read books, read poems, simply read and enjoyed and loved… this tickles me to no end. I can know that even in gut wrenching loneliness, next to my own pile of well worn memories of love, I must be, hopefully, a creased-up old cover with earmarked pages, a favourite upon the shelves and bedside tables of a great many people. This poem of yours is delicately lovely in its longing. 🫶🏼🙏🏼💕