Thursday, January 3

Tender Mercies

When wind spins her ice cold fingers through my hair
I remember that I'm really not alone

And even though my pulsing heart has cooled, 

it hasn't yet turned into bitter stone

Dear Sun, will you rise again tomorrow?

I promise you, tomorrow I'll be good

If only I could feel your rays of sunshine,

then I'd know all will be again as it should 

8 comments:

  1. Beautiful ... may the sun fulfill all your wishes :-)

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  2. With creative imaginations, we truly are never alone. Aren't we lucky?

    Elizabeth

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  3. This is good, but quite chilling! (no pun intended) Thinking of the ice cold fingers reminding a person she/he is not alone makes me think of the many people to whom a cold hand or heart is their only contact. Indeed the rays of sunshine (and human warmth) make all the difference in the world, don't they?

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  4. oh in truth the sun is ever shining somewhere above the clouds, the delusions that we might not be good... good enough... we are, you are. Beautiful poem.

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  5. 'Dear Sun, will you rise again tomorrow?'...oh how I have asked that countless times. Nice capture :-)

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  6. I love your title, and the hope that tomorrow will bring sun. It always does:)

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  7. I know this feeling! I have many times had to remind myself that things always look better, seem more hopeful, in the morning. Just have to get through the night!

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