#writersceed

And meet somebody new

It feels different

Something's missing

From me

It's not like before

Compared to you

I know

I'll never find you again

In my life

A bloom,

A sunrise

A rush

of spring water

Breaking loose

After a winter’s icy noose.

My heart beats,

Hummingbird’s wing.

I glow, a flower of my own,

And blush-

Frightened and unsure

But unable to hush

The song that must

Be sung:

I love,

And am loved,

So every battle to be met,

Shall be a battle won.

I close my eyes and dream of a place

The island on the other side of the calamitous ocean

My raft held together with scions

Will it fall apart at the hit of its first wave in my indevotion?

I close my eyes and dream of a face

One that must lend me sails to set

Instead it hammers on the cracks

Will it heave me back from the first wave with the remorse I beget?

I close my eyes and dream of a heart

The antidote to my exhaustion and anguish

But the heart is broken and cuts cracks into mine

Happy Accidents

I watched a show about Bob Ross last night. It taught me a few things.

Now, I know he was an artist, and I am too, but what he taught me was not about art. Hell, I very seldom paint. No, what he showed me was that a mistake does not own me. I cannot undo a mistake, and that leaves me with two options.

-1)start over

-2)make it work

Starting over is an option. Always. But if you have an investment in something, your time, talent, or treasure, you need in my opinion, option 2.

Make it work. Learn from that mistake or challenge. Find a way to incorporate, and turn it or yourself into a masterpiece.

You can you know.

You already are.

Where the Flowers Grow

Written for the @flashfictionfridayofficial 205 prompt: Where the Flowers Grow. All pictures for the moldboard found on Pinterest.

In carefully tended gardens

Row by row

In fields untouched by humans

Wild and chaotic

Along cracks in the pavement of busy cities

Unconcerned that they aren’t to be there

Up along the sides of buildings

Reclaiming their place

It matters not if it is a fussed over rose

Or a dandelion among a million like it

They are all beautiful

They are all food for the bees and other pollinators

They all have a place

 So do you

You can be seen by one person to be a rose

Another will see a weed

What does it matter

We are all flowers growing in His garden

Everyone of us has worth

Beauty

Everyone of us

It's too cold, being outside.

I have no

great need

to be

remembered

just simple

hopes

and

desires

that I leave

this world

in some

some small way

a better place

that I made

someone's life

a little easier

that I lived

a good and honest

simple life

small actions

and kindness

are always

within our power