Posted in Advice, Musings, Poetry, Soul Journal

Crayonโ€™s Voice***

Why do we limit ourselves? There is no simple answer.

Life is a celebration and we miss out on possibilities, cornering ourselves into a box. Unless that box is shut off from the world, by well-meaning friends or loved ones, we should not be afraid to be used. (But never abused.) If someone chooses to pick us, color with us, there is no need to cry. A lonely crayon is perfect. A used crayon, worn from tired hands, are memories to linger, lines in the sand.

Happy day to you. Just be. Linger a while in the joy of whatever color(s) you are today. What color are you at the moment? Feel free to let the world know in the comments. โœŒ๐Ÿผ ๐ŸŒˆ ๐ŸŽจ ๐ŸŽถ๐ŸŽถ๐ŸŽถ

***This is a post from June 2018. Ashley wrote about the drafts folder and mine is plumb full dating back to 2016. I plan on revamping some posts and letting them loose. Others will be trashed. Honestly, my blog(s) need an overhaul. I have changed so much from 2008 until now. My old selves certainly don’t recognize the new me. The me taking on life one day at a time.

Hope you will stay on this journey with me a little longer. Watch for all the changes to come. And know you are always welcome here. โœŒ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ•ฏ๐ŸŽถ๐Ÿ’™

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

Tender Green Shoot

In every vision black consumes the mind. Defines the boundary line.

In moments of clarity I sing. In moments of despair I moan. In this moment I spy the green seeping from your eyes.

We step in the shallow pool where leaves gather in cooler days. The reds, yellows, and oranges ripen with the setting sun. Browns crunch under our shoes. Your fingers wrap around my wrist, clenching my pulse to see if I respond. I donโ€™t. But I do.

I reach for the new growth you promised me years ago. I see it now. The tender green shoots sprout from your heart.