Monday, November 6, 2017


her youth, remembered
her wrinkled hands count
not what time has stolen
as they went about living.
her youth, remembered
when forward she sees
more lags
her presentness.
her youth, remembered
the glow no longer
a new form of beauty,
perhaps it is.
what time that is left.

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About Me

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greetings! i have managed to incorporate my eternal woodstock nation spirit with the high tech 21st century world. i am an artist/writer, who dabbles in rhyme, and, sometimes, reason. my passions are my husband, who is truly the wind that ruffles my sails, animals rights, yoga...waking up in the morning. i find inspiration in too many things to list, and far too many more to remember. sketching, watercolor painting,poetry and photography are my ways of expressing joy and gratitude. from living with a chronic illness, i have learned the beauty of each day, and treat each as another sun salutation, and another chance.