SuziCate's Musings

Archive for February, 2015

Naked Truth

Roots beneath dark soil sprout and rise to meet the sun; yearnings come to light. What was meant to be finds voice and form to exist and claim its birthright.

Roots beneath dark soil
sprout and rise to meet the sun;
yearnings come to light.
What was meant to be
finds voice and form to exist
and claim its birthright.

Winter’s Irony

Feathers in weather paint themselves upon the trees; Life imitates art. They fly in the sky, graceful, gliding where they please. Art imitates life.

Feathers in weather
paint themselves upon the trees;
life imitates art.
They fly in the sky,
graceful, gliding where they please;
art imitates life.

Ambiance

Warm eyes follow me. Your love pours into my soul. You fill me with light.

Warm eyes follow me.
Your love pours into my soul.
You fill me with light.

Frigid

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Trees have lost their gloves,

the stream’s almost silent,

and you turn away.

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