poem for Thursday morning, or whenever it comes to you...

[Guest guest]

Hi Gangs,

 

I just found this poem by Lacey Stinson:

 

the sacred

and the

cherished uncovered,

once

rare gems buried

beneath

reason, discovered

in

day's faded sun;

faint

dear melody born of wind,

an

enchanted summons

to

the wonders of I,

 

 

simple like spring,

soft, like

the tangent whisper of dew,

a voice

grown older by the passing,

 

arriving and never leaving,

comes

the gift of we,

 

the all of me.

 

Love, Mark