Keep the Pace
And who is to judge
how slow one goes?
The pace of a snail
or the flight of a bird
is a response to the rhythm
inwardly heard.
My Dollhouse
Sitting on my playroom floor
there behind a half-closed door,
I went into a world brand new
and left behind my feeling blue.
For in this very special place
I had created my own space.
And in it was my dollhouse world
where all my girlhood dreams unfurled.
I put such love within that home
that no one had to feel alone.
Babysteps
Grief stuck
in my being
No way out
I need a pogo stick
to get from here
to where my heart can
go on
without a trail
made wide with tears
shed and unshed
like those from a baby
left too long unfed.
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