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

Left to us was this memory: Kindness, he lit by way he knew.

They lay down their arms to worship the night. Then shun the light of day.

No one walks anywhere anymore.

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

You would love the whole of me.

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