a whisper

they accumulate like snowflakes on a limb and then they are gone like raindrops on your skin taken by the Sun and when the dry spells come I hold onto them these memories perhaps long forgotten by those who shared in them and those already silent they drift downstream and out of site to return upon my final night and beginning with the first clear light of youth all but a whisper ....is life

Deckard

I began writing poetry when I was a teenager and it truly saved me from a destructive path. 'Time Heals' will be on my grave stone'. I have 3 incredible kids who are the greatest gifts that God has given me. If I have advice to give to aspiring...

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