Tuesday, January 22, 2019

A Second Look (At What Becomes a Book)






Moments meld like syllables
One into the next
Sighs, unintelligible
Weave a sacred text

Thought is like an instrument
Fueling reply
Touch becomes the testament
Of love’s days gone by

Each new day is like a page
Whereon Time is traced
Where its transcript, age through age
Cannot be erased

Tide of tangerine and gold
Fades into the blue
While beneath its sky we mold
Ink of say and do

Weaving, with each memory
More than we may think
Authoring a life-story
Without page or ink

© Janet Martin

Today's page definitely needs to include some domestic duties😉 



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