Tate Morgan > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

She thought this soul she'd keep.

Our short lives hastened streams be.

The waning years left me lost tears

The smiles of children stamped in the mint of memory are the coin of the realm of happiness!

Billowing clouds of blue and gray. Play like children across the sky

Staring at my reflection. Lines of living on my face. Struggling hard to remember. Past moments born of grace.

Pity the heartless.

I for one did stay behind , when everyone else grew up.

The unending light of my life.

Life is not a race to be won.