Monday, October 15, 2012

The Hand of Time

Kindly in time she removes the shards
And the thorns that mar her being
She softens realities once plain or hard
Until the picture we’re seeing
Glimmers; a sweet, soulful reverie
In a beautiful memory

The ‘good old days’ even now are being made
As daylight slips into the quiet dark
And as the echo of our hurried footsteps fade
Sealing in history their ethereal mark
We sense her stoical empathy
Preserving a beautiful memory

Surely the epitome of kindness forms her bearing
She does not care to keep our polished woes
Beneath her touch their ache is disappearing
As we hold the filament of mercy close
Gently, her brushstrokes help us see
Nothing, but a beautiful memory

© Janet Martin

Every autumn I am so reluctant to trim off the plants
in my flower-garden...
There is beauty in the broken and in blooms that weather the storm.


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Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!