I'll tell you how the sun rose a ribbon at a time.
~Emily Dickinson Emerson
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Daddy.
He speaks, He moves mountains. Every breath taking flight to heights beyond arms reach. Withering time, silver-gray lined. Weary hands clasp, knees crush the earth, eyes birthing tears. And mercy reigns, or rains, restoring sullen hearts.
LOVE the poem. Seriously love it. Keep restoring and birthing those tears, Memorie. It's what you were born to do!
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